Fester
by Whas'up
Summary: Regina lets the wounds on her arm fester. She leaves them be, night after night, staring at them, dark eyes empty, breath easy, and she could be sleeping, if she weren't in so much pain. But henry is gone, her baby, and the pain will never go away. Infection is no laughing matter, and when Roland witnesses her fall to her fever, it's his father he runs too.
1. Chapter 1

Regina lets the wounds on her arm fester.

In day light the wounds are covered, black silk and lace, and whatever else remains untouched in her wardrobe after so long away, they make an excellent shield against prying, curious eyes.

Not that there are many prying, curious eyes at all to guard from, but there is at least Snow. Pure Snow White, still so infuriatingly good after everything she has lost, who still finds it within herself to smile, to laugh…

Regina stares at the deep furrows marring her arm in the night, when she should be sleeping but can't, she leaves them open to air and her eyes alone, the long gashes that have no hope of closing without stitches, framed in angry pussing red, they are reminder, of what exactly Regina doesn't know.

She leaves them be, night after night, staring at them in the twilight hours, her dark eyes empty of emotion, blank, her breath easy. She could be sleeping, should be sleeping, but sleep won't come, if she weren't in so much pain maybe then blessed sleep would come, but the pain is unbearable. Henry is gone, her baby, and the pain will never go away.

It is not quite as dramatic as stealing away her own heart, or pricking her finger with a cursed sleep, but somewhere in her mind she knows it is more final. Infections are no laughing matter, especially here, where a medicine man and some herbs is your only protection from death.

Regina doesn't want to die. Henry wouldn't want that. But still she lies in her bed at night, moonlight catching the more and more gruesome sight of her arm.

She does not cry.

* * *

Regina is surveying a map in conference with Snow and her ragtag council when she faints for the first time. It comes on rather suddenly, she's swaying gently from side to side, spots of color lighting up her vision, she can feel a hand clasping just above her elbow, Snow's voice is in her ear, but blood is rushing through her head and she stares with blank eyes at the concern Snow wears so beautifully. Then it is dark.

It takes her only a few moments before she is herself again, but in that short time she's found herself on the cold stone floor, Snow has followed her down, is kneeling at her side, Charming hovering over his wife's shoulder, his brow creased as though he is confused.

They watch, Grumpy and three of his brothers, Granny and Red, Snow and Charming, others too, as Regina struggles to sit up, Snow has her hands out as if to offer help but seems to think better of it, Snow shuffles away when Regina reaches for the table edge.

Regina knows what she must look like, sweaty and pale and pissed off, it's no wonder no one helps her. No wonder at all.

"Regina, are you alright?" Snow asks, and from her tone it's obvious the idiot girl has already figured out the answer.

"Fine," Regina answers, her voice shaking, her voice sounds weak even to her own ears. Regina stiffens her jaw and attempts to stand, pulling at the table edge as everyone immediately steps back, watching as Regina stumbles over herself twice before she has the strength in her legs to hold herself up. Her legs tremble.

She takes in one deep breath and raises her hand from the table, heads shakily for the open door of the chamber, she does not even turn her head as she addresses Snow, "Excuse me," she says, and Snow speaks but Regina keeps walking, does not listen, as she passes through the doorway.

Once she has made it down one corridor, she holds her self up against the walls as she makes slow progress to her bed chambers. The halls are almost empty, almost, she passes people by, but she has to work so hard to even stay conscious that what they must think, that they think her _weak_, is pushed violently to the back of her thoughts.

She's staggering like a dizzy drunk, she's sure, and her breath comes quick and sharp. The wall seems frighteningly far away even though her hand rests on it still.

The colorful bright spots creep back in, slowly, slowly, from the edge of her vision they encroach.

There is a tug on her skirt, a high pitched word, a question being asked, left unanswered as Regina falls to her knees, body laying awkwardly on the floor.

Darkness overtakes her.

* * *

Regina wakes in her own bed, groggy and sluggish, she curls to lay on her side, knees pulling towards her chest before sense returns, and she wonders how she came to be in her nightgown.

It's then that the agony makes itself known; her whole arm is on fire, aching more than it ever has, not even when the monkey had first clawed it open did it hurt this badly. From the elbow down to the base of her thumb her arm is wrapped in fresh white linen. Her brow furrows, confusion and heaviness coursing through her body, looking at that bandage like she's never seen anything like it.

It feels as if something has been stolen from her.

Dear Snow White has stolen another ending, this one not so happy, but an ending all the same.

Is that what she craved? It isn't what Henry would have wanted.

The groan of a chair comes from the corner, as fast as her tired, abused body will allow Regina swishes her eyes to see the thief striding towards her. His clothes are stained bloody, splotches all over and Regina has the vague remembrance of being held down, of screaming, of crying, as her wounds were ripped open, corruption spilling out and out and out, until finally a medicine man had put some herbs down, had sewn ugly stitches into her skin, and wrapped it all up.

But Regina can't remember Snow being there, and Regina is sure Snow would have been, if she had known, would be here now with a disappointed frown if she had know. So she does not know, and for that Regina is grateful, disappointment from that little girl is too bitter a pill to swallow at the moment.

"You scared my son," the thief says by way of greeting, eyes hard and shoulders tense, she just looks at him from her bed, she is heavy and tired and even if she wanted to speak she's not sure she could.

His stance does not lessen, how long will he wait for an apology that's not on its way, she wonders.

A shiver racks her frame, her knees draw closer to her chest without conscious thought, a fetal position almost and her eyes slip closed once, twice, and she can't will them open again.

She hears a sigh from him, deep and worried, more than exasperated, the thud of boots fall towards her before a warmth is draped around her shoulders and she sleeps.

* * *

Weak and dreary sunlight filter through her dark curtains the next morning.

She does not leave her bedchambers.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	2. Chapter 2

Robin turns his head, his ears catching the sound before the boy has even rounded the corner, Roland is crying, a terrible nearly soundless cry, his face a little tiny mask of horror as he runs as fast as his short legs can carry him.

When Robin sees his little boy in such a state he immediately jogs the rest of the way down the hall to him, falling to his knees in front of Roland, checking him for an injury, shushing him, but there is no injury. It takes only a moment to understand that Roland is not hurt, but beyond that it's almost impossible to understand the child through his heavy hiccupping breath. Little John crouches beside the pair, he lays a hand on Roland's shoulder as Robin gathers the boy's hands.

Roland lets out a great gasping breath, a string of unintelligible words tumbling from his lips, but two words are clear, 'Queen' and 'dead' Robin thinks he hears, and at that a panic grips his heart, surprising and terrifying.

"Where? Roland, show us, please," Robin says, noticing Little John throwing him a curious look, but there is no time to question.

It takes a minute of sprinting through dark stone hallways before the two men and still sobbing little boy that had led them stop beside a puddle of silk, one pale hand and a dark tumble of hair visible from her sprawled fallen position.

A ragged breath rips itself from Robin's mouth, unwanted images of a fallen Marian flash through his mind, her dark hair crusted with blood, a limp hand, a stuttering breath, and then silence from her forever. That image, the image of her fallen and dying and then dead, shimmers in the air before his eyes until he shakes his head violently and remembers that it is far away, that it happened long ago, this is the Queen, not Marian.

Little John is already at the Queens side, not as gentle as he could be as he turns the fallen woman over, a frown marring his features.

"She lives," John says, curious eyes looking at Robin clutching Roland's hand a step away. "Roland, she's lives, shhhh, lad, she's alright."

Roland nods his little head, but he cries just as adamantly as before, dark eyes filled with tears as he studies the way Little John feels the Queen's pulse at her neck. The boy drops his father's hand, scrubs at his tear stained face and tries to look brave.

In one great jerk Robin steps forwards, kneels beside her.

There is an unhealthy tinge to her skin, and sweat beads at her brow, labored breath coming from parted lips, her eyes are half open, only the whites to be seen. Robin reaches out a hand, cupping one cheek; she is hot to the touch.

"John, go for a healer," Robin instructs, moving to pick the woman up as John stands and moves away.

"What if they won't come?" John asks, a perfectly reasonable question really, but anger hot and fierce shows on Robin's face.

John nods, "I'll… get one, Robin."

Robin rises with her in his grasp, her arms dangling, dark hair tumbling down, neck stretched, as black silk shines and folds in the misty day light streaming through high drafty windows. She's lighter then he'd expected, she's not tall for a woman, and obviously slim, but it surprises Robin, how easy and how well she fits in his arms. He readjusts his grip, and doesn't notice the how tightly he grasps her.

"Bring them to her chambers, John," he decides, already walking, Roland takes one of her dangling hands into his own, snot sniveling down his face.

* * *

Robin lays her down gently on top of her bed covers and steps back, almost tells Roland 'no' when the little boy climbs up after her, the woman and the child both look tiny on the large bed.

Roland no longer cries, but his wide eyed; fear filled stare is an expression Robin had hoped never to see him wear. Robin reaches out, ruffles the boy's hair easily, but has no words of comfort. He does not lie to Roland. He never will.

"She's all wet," Roland says, quiet in that large bed, his hands come away from her arm red.

Robin leans forward, knows the sight of blood easily, "Where?" he asks, forced calm in his voice.

"Right here," the boy answers, points at her forearm, wrapped in a tight black sleeve. Robin draws a dagger from his waist, cuts the sleeve at the cuff and rips the rest open easily, and chokes a little at the mangled, infection ridden, ugly sight before him.

Roland gasps, little hands drawing towards his mouth, one still red with the Queens blood. Robin snatches towards that hand quickly, grabs Roland around the waist and draws him from the bed, knowing this is not something the little boy need be exposed to, "We'll wash your hands, my boy," he says, clutching at Roland as he carries him to a washroom.

* * *

The healer is a somber man, Robin appreciates the care in his touch as he examines the Queen.

Little John had taken Roland away, away from blood and sickness and the woman that might die. Roland had sniffled quietly, haunted eyes watching over Johns shoulder as he was carried away.

Robin stays with her. Wary of leaving her alone with even a healer.

It is when the healer cracks open one of her eyes that Robin has the strength to ask, his first question posed to the healer, "Will she live?" his voice is desperate and once more Marian flashes before him, wounded so badly, not meant to live. He shakes the comparison away.

The healer glances at him, grasps his shoulder, but speaks the truth, "Perhaps, perhaps not."

* * *

Long hours later, Robin has not slept, the Queen begins to stir on her bed. Robin watches from the corner of her chambers, in a chair that was not comfortable when he'd first sat, and has only become worse hour after hour, but he has not risen.

She turns on her side, pushes at the blankets thrown over her, the nightgown the healer had changed her into after treating her wounds, but before breaking her fever, riding up on her legs as she curls them up, strands of hair cover her blinking eyes, and they focus on her bandaged arm.

She frowns, and Robin is deeply unsettled by the expression.

The chair groans as he stands, legs stretching painfully as he walks towards her, he stops several steps from where she lays, when her tired gaze locks onto him he tenses, the worry he'd felt evaporating into sudden anger. Anger at her, at what she'd let happen, but most of all for almost dying.

"You scared my son," he grits out; Roland's tear streaked face and broken cries prominent in his mind.

Her expression does not change, her heavy lids drooped half open, head resting against the pillow, messy hair mussed all around her face. She looks too pale. She looks tired. She is still sick, Robin reminds himself. And the anger fizzles out as she shivers, eyes closing, legs balling up and then she is still, sleeping.

He walks towards her, sighing, worry that he can't comprehend etched to his brow as he throws her blanket about her shoulders.

Robin leaves her alone, closing the doors softly behind him. He hopes Roland is already asleep by now.

* * *

She does not show for the morning meal the next day.

Roland asks after her, his little head turning about as if to spy her.

Nor does she show for the midday meal.

Robin promises Roland that she is surely fine. The boy's frown is hard to budge.

And when dinner comes and goes with not even a hint of the dark haired, dark eyed, dark clad woman, Robin finds himself worried.

* * *

"You have heavy feet," her voice calls out, "for a thief."

A grin tips the corner of his lips up, "I am not thieving at the moment and so my feet can be as heavy as I please."

She is seated, illuminated by the moon, upon a stiff backed chair near the balcony, curtains still in the breezeless air, she is still in her nightgown. "Why are you here?" she asks him, turning her head away from where he thought himself hidden in a dark corner, she sounds tired.

Robin walks forward into the light, boots thumping, "I am still waiting for your thanks," he says, and it is true, but that also he had to see for himself that she was awake and alive, that he kept to himself.

A silent snort twists up her mouth, he cautiously takes a step closer. Her hair is loose and unbrushed, dark waves left down her back, he's never seen it look more beautiful, the twists and high elegant styles are intimidating, lovely but not touchable, here, like this, he imagines running his hands through her hair for the first time. "I am grateful you aided me, thief," she says, but sounds almost spiteful. "Now leave."

He stops a foot from her, looks down at her, at the bandage over her injuries, bandages stained from where the wounds have wept, she left them untreated for so long, he did not think of what that meant before, "Did you wish to die?" he asks.

"Of course not," she snaps, twisting to look at him, face pointed up at him, and she does look appalled, but there is guilt there too, on her brow. Does he know her well enough to know her moods so well? But he sees it there, plainly before him, guilt.

And they both remember the sleeping curse she'd made.

He stares down at her, and after a moment she turns away, "You received what you came here for, leave me be," she orders.

Robin shakes his head, though she does not see, he walks, not towards the door, but to the other chair in the room, drags it, its legs squealing against the floor, before he plops it besides hers. He sits in it heavily, crosses his arms and smiles at the glare she levels him with, "Perhaps I want to enjoy your company a bit longer," he says.

"Perhaps I want to throw you over the balcony," she responds.

He reaches towards his satchel, he's grinning softly, and brings forth a measure of bread and cheese that he'd snagged from the kitchens, holds it out between them as she flickers her gaze down to the offerings. "You were not at meal time," he says, and does not mention that he'd noted her absence all day, that worry had gnawed at his belly. "Even Royals must eat, surely."

She reaches slowly for the bread, as if she expects him to tear it away from her grasp, he holds it still, studies her.

She is too thin, or is this her without her armor? Without her yards of silk and velvet? Her bones look sharp against her skin, she still looks ill.

Sorrow is wasting her away.

When she takes a bite of bread he smiles.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	3. Chapter 3

Robin is sitting with Roland in his lap, the boy cranky and irritable, unhappy with the knowledge that his Papa got to visit the Queen, after bedtime no less, and Roland didn't. Robin is trying to cajole the boy into eating some of the greens on his plate when the sound around the table sputters out. He notices immediately, the silence, Robin's eyes darting away from the fork in his hand to look at Little John across the table. The large man has his eyes directed at something just above Robin's shoulder, and when Robin turns to see what it is, he sees not a something, but a someone.

Draped in black, a simple braid over one shoulder, stands the Queen. Spine straight and neck high, she's making a very good impression of someone hale and healthy, but there are bags under her eyes, and Robin wonders if she's changed her bandages.

Roland starts wiggling on his father's lap, moving to stand, though Robin is reluctant to let him go. But the boy won't take no for an answer, and when his feet reach the ground he takes one hesitant step towards the woman he'd last seen feverish and bloody on a bed too large. The Queen's eyes dart from Roland and back up to Robin, head inclined questioningly, eyes seeking permission to speak to the boy. Robin nods a little, eyebrows raised as he wonders what she plans on doing, saying to the child. The Merry Men at the table tense when she begins to move, their hands inching towards weapons, Robin doesn't even have time to motion a cease before they all pause on their own, surprised as she sweeps gracefully to her knees before the child, her skirts, big and unwieldy, puff out, she eases them down with practiced ease, she smiles when Roland titters out a giggle, she is face to face with Roland.

"Hello, Roland," she says pleasantly, her smile is not quite a smile, she wears an _almost_ smile on her face, the boy can't tell the difference, she speaks quietly, and the table of men strain to hear her, and of course she must notice their intent, but pays no mind.

Roland smiles, eyes brightening as he drops into an exaggerated bow, when he rises back up he looks very proud. "Majesty," he says, the word not quite right sounding from his little mouth.

Her smile grows warmer, "Call me Regina," she instructs the child, but the name latches in Robin's mind, he'd known her name, of course, but now she is Regina, and not the Queen. Something in him shifts, she is Regina.

Roland shakes his curly head, he already knew her name, had named the flying monkey toy she'd given him after her, "You're the Queen," Roland says though, sounding thoroughly confused, because the little boy knows enough of titles and Royalty to know that you don't call a Queen by her name.

Her smile flickers, sadness in her eyes, those dark eyes, before she smiles wider at the boy, leaning forward she mock whispers, "You are my hero, though, and so you simply must call me Regina," she says, like she's sharing a secret.

His eyes grow wide as saucers, "Your hero?" he questions, gaze spinning to Robin for a moment before looking back at her. Robin's mouth parts only slightly as he watches his child and the woman on her knees, the warmth of her smile kindles something deep in him, embers blown back into life.

"Of course, Roland," she says, nodding, "You saved me," Robin wishes she would look at him, for a moment, but she does not, the feeling of her in his grasp, limp and feverish, comes to him, a phantom weight in his arms, and he wishes she would look at him.

Roland kicks his feet a little, looking down and swinging his shoulders, a little tiny pout appearing on his adorable face. He shakes his head, "I was scared," he whispers, "I…" dark eyes look up at her, before quickly looking away, "cried like a baby," he finishes, like it's particularly shameful.

Her hand comes up, but stops before reaching the boy, her eyes swish fast over the men now suddenly tense behind Roland. Robin turns partly towards them, angry frown marring his features, and they relax once more, confused expressions on their faces as they study Robin, then the Queen. The damage seems to be done though; her hand is retreating back towards her lap.

But Roland steps closer to her, reaching for that hand with both of his, and then hugging it against his chest.

Her eyes are wide, staring at her hand against the boy's chest, before she shakes her head a little, "You were a very brave boy, Roland," she says, dark eyes sad, the almost smile gone.

Roland shakes his head, looks as if to speak, but she stops him, other hand coming to his face and cradling his cheek, "Very, very brave, you can only ever be brave when you're scared, Roland."

Roland melts into her touch, he's never taken to strangers so well, "Papa says that too," he says, dimples on full display as he smiles at her.

It takes Robin's breath away; the pair of them takes his breath away.

Robin wishes she would look at him though, wants desperately for her eyes to find his own, but she does not, "Your Papa must be very wise," she says, "like me," she adds on, a little grin on her lips.

She lets her hands drop away from the boy gently, caressing his cheek softly before she begins to rise.

"Thank you, Ser Roland," she says, all benevolent Queen as she dips down into a deep curtsey, the kind of which no Queen would ever have reason to do in her own kingdom, hands spreading the fabric of her skirt.

Roland laughs, sweet and high it rings through the chamber, a joyous sound as he bends at the waist in an even more flamboyant bow then before.

* * *

The Merry Men pester Robin endlessly after that.

Gossips, all of them, he grumbles and breathes not a word of her injury, or her resulting illness, just as he has kept her sorrow to himself.

But where he feels the need to respect the Queens privacy, Little John apparently does not, and it is known throughout the castle before lunch that the Queen had need of a healer because of untreated wounds and that Robin had been the one to rush to her aid.

There are whispers after that, sidelong glances from people Robin has never met, confused expressions abound.

* * *

Before dinner he and John are approached by one of Snow White's dwarves, are summoned to a council meeting, and when they enter the room it is charged dangerously with tension.

"What happened?" Robin asks, frown deep in his features as he approaches the table around which everyone stands.

When he sees what is on the table…the horror makes him gape.

A mans severed head sits there, sitting in bloody rags. But its eyes are open, pupils frantically swishing in the sockets, mouth twisting in a silent scream.

"We sent a scout," David says, a hand on Snow Whites shaking shoulder, "We sent him to check the perimeters of the kingdom."

"And he," Robin takes a step farther, and falters, "was sent back?"

"A flying monkey threw him through the kitchen windows," an old woman says, a woman from Storybrooke who Robin has not yet quite met, she stares at the head with a wild rage. Robin eyes her for a moment, and let's his eyes search the room.

Regina is not here.

"Where is the Queen?" he asks, eyes snap towards him, expressions so diverse he can hardly comprehend them all. "This is magic," he says, gesturing towards the animated head, "magic, of which I believe she is an expert."

"Yes," a voice, her voice, calls from the chamber door, "she is."

Robin turns to see her enter the room, her soft footfalls loud in the silence, people back away as she passes, until she stands at the table, expression blank as she studies the silently screaming face.

"Regina," Snow says, and the name sounds caring, the way she says it, "we knew you were hurt so-"

"Spare me," Regina says, it's not cutting, it's tired, still so tired, is she feeling better, he wants to know, are her stiches holding, but he can't ask, she bends down, hands on the hard wooden table, reaches out towards the bundle and spins it until she's seen the head from all angles.

David's lip has turned up in disgust, "Do you know what Dark magic this is?"

Regina summons a chair from behind her, it scrapes against the floor until gently it taps the back of her knees, she sinks down into it. "Thaemtonum," she says softly, very softly, she clasps her hands together in front of her mouth.

"What is that?" Snow asks, sweet face pinched in worry.

"It's," Regina shakes her head, dark eyes pinned on those of the severed head, "a very complicated spell," she swallows, and finally turns away, "it tethers the soul."

"So," David's face scrunches in confusion, "he is still alive."

"No," Regina says, "no, he is certainly not alive."

Her shoulders are shaking; hands white knuckled against each other, her face is pinched, like something loud is screaming at her, "Can you," Robin whispers, looking at the open mouth of the head, "hear him?"

Regina doesn't answer for a moment, eyes look at her; those in the full room really see her for the first time since she's entered. Do they see what Robin sees? A woman shaking and so obviously unwell, but sitting strong and giving insight, "Yes," she answers, still looking towards the wall, "I can hear him."

"What is he saying?" Snow asks.

"He is somewhere dark," Regina says, voice hollow, she breathes shallowly, as if she is actively trying not to be sick, "he cannot see, he screams for help." The room is unmoving, some stare at Regina, most stare at the head, "it is cold, and wet, he feels creatures, slimy and cruel all around him. Panic is on him. He screams for his brothers, Tek and William, he doesn't know why they don't come, he's begging th-"

It looks very much like she will continue, but Robin can see the toll this takes on her, he reaches out towards her clasped hands, and enfolds them both with one of his own. "Stop," he says, and she does.

Her hands are cold in his grasp, she doesn't move away.

"Can you set him free?" Snow asks, tears on her face, her gaze lingering on Robin's hold of Regina's hands, he does not feel the need to pull away.

"No," Regina says, as if it pains her.

"Why not?" a dwarf barks, and doesn't seem bothered in the least at Robin's glare.

Regina turns her head at the dwarf, eyes sharp, "It isn't that I won't, dwarf," she spits at him, voice vicious. "It's that I can't," she admits, blinking and suddenly tearing her hands from Robin's. She stands, her chair pushed back as she strides from the table.

Without another word she is out the doors.

And Robin follows.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	4. Chapter 4

Regina watches from the door, watches for a moment as father and son sit together comfortably, as the thief picks up his boy and puts him on his lap, the boy shaking his head and refusing the green bean offered to him. Regina takes a deep, controlled breath to steady nerves she'll never admit needed calming, and walks towards the table.

The men there, laughing and eating, enjoying each other's presence, enjoying their friendship, notice her one by one. A man down the table drops his fork with a clatter, mouth unattractively open as she sweeps to a stop behind Robin, his back curved a bit to speak to the child still in his lap.

Words are not needed, just a moment, that's all, and the thief spins in his seat. His eyes are surprised, Regina decidedly ignores how they soften once he sees and recognizes her, his gaze moves down to her arm, before he looks back up to her face. She doesn't need his pity. She straightens her spine, fights the urge to put her wounded arm, covered in a sleeve, out of his view.

But he is not the reason she has approached, the boy is her reason.

Memories from behind the haze of her fever speak of a crying boy, scared and covered in snot, panic in his brown eyes. Guilt, raw and unwanted, heaves in her gut. She wishes the boy had not been there, but he was, and she knows it was not something he'd needed to see.

Roland is squirming in his father's lap, wriggling to be put down, the man holds his child though, the thief still looking at Regina, and the shot of hurt that races through her is unexpected. Who would trust their child with the Evil Queen?

The boy is determined though and eventually struggles free, a little footfall towards Regina, eyes wide as he looks up at her, his neck craned.

Regina throws a questioning glance at the thief, her head tilted, until he nods, there is uncertainty on his expression, he doesn't look frightened, but wary. The men behind him are little easier to read, untrusting, hard and tense, and all at once Regina is glad this boy has protection, and devastated that she's become the thing children are protected from. It's not a new revelation, she's been a monster for a long time, but she let herself forget. Let herself be a woman, a Mayor, and tried to be a Mother, but that was in a different world.

The boy is tiny, just a little boy, and Regina decides immediately that what she has to say, she must say to his face. Just as she had always tried to do with Henry, so too will she do with this boy, she falls to her knees for the child, to look at him eye to eye, this boy not her own, and smiles at him.

"Hello, Roland," she says, the smile on her face is as genuine as she can make it.

The boy lights up, smiles all his baby teeth on display, any lingering uncertainty gone in an instant as he sweeps into a bow so deep he's in danger of tipping over. Regina would think she was being mocked if it was anyone else, but he pops up proud as a peacock, dimples deep in his cheeks. "Majesty," he says, that little voice warming Regina's heart.

"Call me Regina," she says.

But he shakes his head, and Regina's smile falters, "You're the Queen," he tells her.

Regina, in an instant, feels old pain in her heart, yes, she is the Queen, for all that it has done for her. A King had wedded her and bedded her, but had never loved her, and now she will forever and always a Queen, and an Evil one besides. This child will not know her as a Queen; she decides and lets the old pain slither into the back of her mind once more. She leans forward, "You are my hero, though," she says, eyes earnest, "and so you simply must call me Regina."

"Your hero?" he breathes, awe filled eyes spinning to his father before returning to her.

She feels it then, the weight of the thief's gaze, heavier than that of the other men, and she studiously refuses to look at him.

"Of course, Roland," she reassures, "You saved me," and she will never let this child know how much she hadn't wanted to _be_ saved.

Roland looks suddenly shy, fumbling with his feet and looking down and away from her, "I was scared," he admits, and Regina feels a flare of guilt deep in her belly, "I cried like a baby," he whispers, shame written on his face.

The want to comfort him is so strong and fierce in that instant that Regina forgets herself, reaches for his cheek; it takes not even a second for her to realize her lapse in judgment. The men at the boy's back stiffen, hands jumping towards daggers at their waists and bows beside them, she stills her hand, and feels confusion deep when the men relax once more. But Regina will not mistake that as permission and pulls back her hand.

And the boy follows after it, grasps it tightly, little fingers slightly sticky, he draws her hand towards his chest, and hugs it against himself like it were a beloved thing. Regina can't hide her wonder, this silly, silly boy, she thinks, if he knew how many chests she has invaded, how many hearts she has taken, lives stolen, would he be so quick to crave her touch? "You were a very brave boy," she says. He shakes his head and once more, without thought, she reaches for his cheek, it is soft and round, he is still such a little boy, "Very, very brave, you can only ever be brave when you're scared, Roland."

Roland presses against her hand, he is so achingly adorable, smiling away, "Papa says that too," Roland giggles.

Regina feels those eyes on her again, blue eyes heavy and wanting, she will not look at him, "Your Papa must be very wise, like me," she says with a grin. The weight of those eyes is too much all at once, her audience of men seem stifling, and she must leave now, retreat from them and this boy that is not her child, this child who all at once buoys her and devastates her.

Her hand lingers against his cheek as she rises, gracefully to her feet.

She drops into a deep curtsy, the kind she hasn't had need of since she had Leopold murdered in his bed, "Thank you, Ser Roland," she says.

He laughs madly, nose diving into another bow.

And she retreats as fast as she can without looking like she is running.

* * *

She retreats all the way to her room, air harsh in and out through her nose as she flings the doors shut after her with nothing but a violent wave of her hand, grief, a wave crashing over her, the tide pulling her under, grief that comes and goes like the push and pull of the ocean, it fills her, she submerges under it, grief, raw and terrible grief. She's drowning.

A child's smiling and laughing face, pulling her under.

It's the wrong child, her heart whispers brokenly, a quivering hand covers her mouth.

She wants to weep, but the tears will not come, there is only coldness, seeping and numbing, climbing up her frame. The icy grasp of the tide, grief, it leaves her gasping as she falls to the ground against the doors to her chamber.

* * *

Hours later she awakens from her stupor; from the bone chilling grief that had her laying fully clothed on her bed, her thoughts strangely hollow, empty and useless,. Her hands fly over her ears, she is shocked beyond sense as screaming, awful _screaming_, comes from the very walls of the castle all around her. It reverberates in the stone.

She flings herself off the bed, but finds no relief from the sound further in the room.

A man is screaming, from all around, she can hear him in the walls, in the floor, from the very air, as if he is right next to her, Regina crouches on her knees, hands still over her ears and breathes as deeply and calmly as she can, in then out, in then out, she pulls her magic about herself, a shroud to shield her, but it only dampens it, it is enough though.

It is Dark magic, she knows, can feel, she is no stranger to it, no stranger to the dark and the twisted, but this is worse than any she casted.

Another deep breath before she straightens herself, stands, and walks with even, regal strides out of her chamber, opening the doors with hands that tremble. She follows the magic, the closer she gets, the louder the screams.

First it is towards the kitchens that she's drawn, but then it is the Council chambers she is pulled towards, she hesitates, stops, and with a shake of her dark hair, she continues.

They left the door open to the hall, _Snow, you silly girl_, Regina thinks, _doors are made for a reason_.

"-through the windows," and that is the old wolf, Granny who sounds ready to kill.

"Where is the Queen?"

His voice makes Regina stop once more, hands clenching the rumpled fabric of her skirt into fistfuls, of course he is there, has somehow already become some great ally to Snow and Charming. "This is magic," he says, and she swallows, her face a perfect mask of no emotion and walks into the room. "Magic, of which I believe she is an expert."

There was a time such a perfectly timed entrance would have brought a smile to her lips, but that time is past. "Yes," Regina calls, "she is."

Her hands are still balled into the fabric of her skirt, the noise, the magic, is nauseating this close, but she walks closer.

The head on the table is a particularly gruesome sight, for sure, but she hides her disgust, her horror, Regina keeps her face blank, studying it, it is not a horror she has seen before in her many years.

"Regina," Snow's sweet voice, so goddamned sweet, calls to her, "we knew you were hurt so-"

"Spare me," Regina tries to spit, but it comes out tired, and she doesn't even care, does not even glance at Snow, at her earnest eyes and little tiny pink mouth turned down into a frown.

Regina reaches for a clean corner of the blood soaked bundle, and turns the severed head in a complete circle, dark eyes intent on it, throwing the horror, the disgust, out of her mind, until she is left only with the magic. In the time for that head to turn, she filters through a hundred of Maleficent's beautiful old books, dozens of old lessons with the Rumple, searching, searching, until the magic at the tips of her fingers is recognizable.

"Do you know what Dark magic this is?" She thinks it is David to ask, but the room is spinning, breakfast threatening to reappear and so she does not look up to check.

A chair touches the back of her knees, she hadn't even known she'd summoned it, but nevertheless sinks down gratefully on the hardwood seat of the chair. "Thaemtonum," she breathes, and brings her hands before her mouth.

"What is that?" Snow asks, and Regina does not look at her. Regina stares deep into the rolling, panicked eyes of the man's head on the table.

"It's a very complicated spell," she abbreviates, does not mention that Rumple would not speak of it, that it was written in blood in the darkest tome in Mal's library. "It tethers the soul," she allows, turning finally away from the gruesome horror before her, she does not say that it is forever, that it is eternity of suffering, a hundred fold more powerful and painful then a sleeping curse, this man is doomed even beyond the ending of the world.

"So, he is still alive?" David asks.

And, gods, how Regina wishes she could find it within herself to snort at his stupidity, but even that is too much, "No, no, he is certainly not alive," she answers simply, with no inflection. Cursed after death, if he had a True Love, even then he couldn't be saved. Why would the green bitch do this? What point is there to throwing so much magic, so much darkness, on a simple soldier?

Regina's shroud of magic, an invisible shroud that she can feel the weight of on her shoulders, it is draining quickly, her power is drained, her shields withering before his screams, before the magic that keeps him here after death. The head cannot stay in the castle, it would drive her mad.

"Can you hear him?" Robin asks, worry in that accented voice, care, and fear, all for her and she cannot look at him.

"Yes, I can hear him," she admits, hands still clasped in front of her, elbows shaking against the table and she feels the eyes of everyone on her, they weigh her appearance, and she knows they look at her and see that she is weak. She feels _weak_.

"What is he saying?" Snow asks, such a sweet little voice, almost unchanged from girl to woman.

Regina listens through her dwindling shields, will not entertain the idea of lowering them completely to hear everything he is screaming, this is the last he will say in this world, the last anyone will hear him, but she will not lift her shroud, but what she hears is enough, muffled and lost a little, the meaning is clear. "He is somewhere dark, he cannot see, he screams for help." She swallows, breathes, in then out, this man had been named Ben in Storybrooke, he rode a motorcycle, and helped old ladies carry their groceries. "It is cold, and wet, he feels creatures, slimy and cruel all around him." Regina shudders, closes her eyes, "The panic is on him. He screams for his brothers, Tek and William, he doesn't know why they don't come, he's begging them-"

A warm, strong hand envelops Regina's, "Stop," he says, a plea, and Regina does. There is more, there will forever _be_ more, this man will never stop screaming, never, even after he has decayed and long generations have lived and died, his soul will remain screaming.

She does not pull away from the thief's grip, strength flows through his hand and into her, her shields boost, her shroud heavy once more, the comforting weight of a fine fur in the middle of winter. She is too grateful to question why.

"Can you set him free?" aw, Snow is crying.

"No," Regina admits, like it's shameful.

"Why not?" Grumpy snarls at her, the dwarf leaning over the table at her, anger and hostility blatant on his face, all of it misplaced, this once, how dare he? As if she had done this thing. It was the witch, the green bitch, she had done this, did it to show her power.

"It isn't that I won't, dwarf," she spits, anger blinding her until it all puffs away, gone in an instant. "It's that I can't," she admits, she is not stronger then this spell, would not have it in her to even cast it. Her sister is more powerful then her, that's why Zelena did this, so Regina would know, so everyone in this godforsaken chamber would know.

She tears her hands from the thief, feels instantly the loss of that flow of strength, is stricken when the warmth of his hand against the chill that surrounds her is gone.

Regina storms from the chamber.

Her hands fly again to her ears as her shields splutter, instinct is too strong to fight as she steps quickly down the hall, around a corner, another corner, a hall, on and on, she doesn't even know where she is going. She knows only that she needs more distance, more space, needs to get away.

She needs to get away.

She needs it gone from the castle.

She can't hear over the screams, she can't hear anyth-

It isn't until she trips over a stone that she even knows she has exited the castle, mid-afternoon sun streaming down at her as she sits, rocking back and forth on the smooth stones of a rarely used courtyard, the servants entrance, and that's all she ever was in this castle, a servant to a King, to a Princess, until she became a slave to darkness instead.

Hands are on her, her shoulders.

She swats them away, a wordless yell escapes her.

"Regina," that voice, "Regina," saying her name over and over.

It's him.

Hands are on her shoulders again, and strength flows through them, warmth washing over her, the shroud, the warm fur in a frigid night, it wraps around her shoulders, warmth, like from a fire in a welcoming hearth, spreads over from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. It's comfort. It's safety.

She gasps against him, shudders.

She lets him hold her.

She can no longer hear the screams.

When her mind is finally clear, the screams gone, the head must have been removed from the castle, she doesn't know how long it took, how long she stayed in his embrace for, Regina looks up at him, at his frightened face, she's waking from a daze. Relief spreads across his features, his hands on her shoulders tighten briefly and he smiles.

"Let me go," she says, her voice is hoarse, had she been screaming? She doesn't know.

He nods, does as she asks, but doesn't back away, he stays crouching beside her, "Would it be very rude to ask what just transpired?"

Regina looks away from him, mulls it over for a moment, "I had an adverse reaction to the magic placed on that man," she finally decides to tell him.

He guffaws quietly, "Quite the reaction," he says.

She looks up at him, so close to her, and feels the tips of her lips turn upward at the barely restrained, almost comically confused face he's wearing. His dimples, he gave his dimples to his son, she finds herself cataloging. And then reality crashes back at her and she slips farther away from him before standing on her own, straightening the skirt of her gown, wrinkled and rumpled and now covered in dust, before she nods curtly and tries to walk away.

He calls her name, _her name_, and she stops.

She is frightened of him, a realization she nearly denies, because she fears no one, but she is terrified, she can't lie to herself for very long, afraid of the closeness that feels right when he is looking at her. He's a stranger. He is nothing. She doesn't turn to look at him as she tells him, "Leave me alone."

Regina can hear his boots against the stone, as he steps behind her, close, the air leaving his lungs ghosts against her neck he is so close, and it feels natural, like it should be that way always. "Is that what you want?" he asks, he sounds as lost as she is.

Without giving an answer she walks from him, and he lets her.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	5. Chapter 5

She cannot hear him.

And Robin doubts it is wholly because of the way her hands cover her ears.

She is trembling all over, quick unsteady steps carrying her away.

When Robin worms his way in front of her he can see her wide eyes are clouded over with glowing purple, magic, he shrinks back, aware of the power behind such things and thinks better than to touch her. But the urge is stronger then he'd admit, and it surprises him how much he wishes he could hug her to his chest and make it all better.

He follows after her, corner after corner, hall after hall, they pass four people, people Robin doesn't know, each one stopping to stare in fear at the woman who pays them exactly zero mind, their curious eyes dig into Robin's back as he follows Regina closely, he doesn't think to hide the concern he feels.

Robin is a man of the forest, able to orient himself in any woodland place, but has no idea where they are in the castle after only a few turns, each stone hall similar to the last, huge and drafty halls still covered in dust. They hit suddenly into a courtyard, through a door and suddenly in sunlight, Robin squints, arm upraised to block the sun blinding him.

He calls out as she stumbles down into the dirt. She doesn't get up. She starts to rock back and forth, shoulders hunched, hands still covering her ears.

"Regina," he calls, jogs to her, reaches for her shoulders.

She flinches back from his touch, eyes still smoky purple, frightening on her beautiful face, she swats at him, yells, and he backs away for only a moment before his hands return to steady her. He would not touch her if that was her wish, but she doesn't see him, isn't swatting _him_ away, his hands are gentle on her.

"Regina," he repeats, holds her steady, and slowly, so slowly, he watches that purple haze disappear from her brown eyes, until she is left blinking up at him. Brown eyes, so lovely in the sunlight, they blink up at him in recognition. Robin smiles, the relief sweeping through him, the urge to hold her returns, stronger, his hands clench around her shoulders, and that is all he allows to come of it.

"Let me go," she says, staring up at him and he can see fear in her, hidden not as well as she'd no doubt want.

He does as she bids immediately, but cannot bring himself to put distance between them, worry gnawing at him as he crouches beside her on the ground.

"Would it be very rude to ask what just transpired?" he asks, and he knows that it is magic, but does not know the why, cannot even begin to fathom it.

Her jaw works slowly, and she looks away from him, somewhere off to the side, "I had an adverse reaction the magic placed upon that man," she eventually says, and it's not nearly as much of an answer as Robin would like.

"Quite the reaction," he says, overwhelmed and worried, he lets out an uncomfortable chuckle.

When she looks at him again, tiny smile at the corners of her painted mouth, her red, red mouth, his heart starts beating madly. The sight of her smile breathes a little more life into embers long left without warmth.

As if she can read his exact thoughts, she backs away from him, smile slipping away as she stands, steady on her feet as she straightens her skirt, looks at him and nods and then she is walking away, as if nothing has happened.

"Regina!" he calls, because he cannot simply let her walk away, he can't.

She stops at his voice, but does not turn, "Leave me alone," she near whispers, voice quiet in the stillness of the courtyard, in the late summer air. Robin's heart clenches painfully, looking at her standing there, disheveled braid shining in the sun.

Robin walks as close as he can without touching her, "Is that what you want?" he asks, face twisting up, if it is her will, he will comply, of course, and he is no fool, knows he is growing…fond of her and he should not be, of course not, she is a witch and the Evil Queen, but he is drawn to her and he doesn't even know her but he wants to gods he wants to know everything about her, she is Regina, and he wants to know everything.

She leaves him with no answer.

* * *

The next morning the Merry Men can read his sour mood, they give him distance, looks thrown around him, answering shrugs silently thrown about from man to man.

He sees her for a moment, a plate with not nearly enough food in her hand before she sits alone at a long table, her eyes never stray from her plate.

He remembers her request, and turns away, stalking out of the cavernous dining chamber.

* * *

The boy is all of twenty, with scruff on his face that he probably calls a beard. His brother is even younger, perhaps sixteen.

Tek and William, the brothers of the man cursed for eternity.

Robin frowns; sympathy runs through him, he knows well the pain of losing brothers, perhaps not by blood, but brothers all the same. The boys stand before Snow White and David filled with righteous anger, pleading for retaliation, for an attack, and when refused, they beg for a scouting mission instead, for a chance at the witch that took their brother from them.

As if they can defeat the witch with bow or blade.

But a scouting party is what is needed, David and Snow both agree; obviously the cursed man had stumbled upon the witch, within the kingdom, not even two days ride from this very keep, it's an unpleasant thing to think she remains so close. But the boys won't be joining the mission.

David shakes his head, he stands tall, a rich cloak draped over his shoulders and held in place with an emerald brooch, he wears sad eyes but speaks with an impatient voice, this back and forth has been going on half an hour, the boys won't be allowed to go, they are too young, too inexperienced. David lays his hand on the table,"As your King-"

"You are not my King!" the oldest says vehemently, loud in the suddenly quiet chamber.

David rears back as if slapped, indignation on his handsome face, and Snow beside him is no better. Robin thinks better of it before he smirks, and jabs an elbow into John's ribs when the other man guffaws.

"Excuse me?" David asks, and any mirth Robin had felt is gone in an instant at David's tone, that tone speaks of dungeons and consequences, of Royals too inflated with their own power.

The youngest, Tek, looks towards the only seated figure, silent until this point, Regina, who Robin has made a point not to look at.

Tek bites his lips for a moment, hands fisted at his sides; more nervous looking at the prospect of speaking to the seated women then he'd been during the entire conversation with Snow and David, "Your majesty," he says, the hope in his voice audible to everyone.

Snow and David look between Regina and the boys, scowls on their kind faces, as if this is something neither of them ever imagined happening when they'd offered sharing the keep. And it's silly of them both, Robin thinks, Regina had been the reigning monarch for long years before Snow reclaimed the throne. These boys, they were raised under Regina's banner before being swept to the other land.

Regina lifts her gaze from the table top, looks at both boys, head tilting to the side, "What would you ask of me?" she says, she sounds calm.

"Allow us to execute justice!" Tek cries, and Robin's heart wrenches as the boys voice breaks at the end.

"You," she points at Tek, "are a child," the boy rocks back on his heels, mouth opening, glaring, she silences him with a look, "and are not going anywhere." She rises from her seat, and Robin feels the unease grow around him, bodies shifting, gazes appraising her as she leans hands on the tabletop. "And you, William, with what weapon do you plan on executing justice?"

The older boy swallows, nervous and angry, "I can wield a blade, Majesty," he says, but Robin knows he is lying.

Regina seems to know it too, "You've trained with one?" she asks, disbelieving look growing, and when the boy hesitates, she shakes her head.

"You are fools, the both of you," she says, soft as if she were speaking only to them, "Ben was the soldier, all the good it did him," it takes Robin a confused second to realize she must be speaking of the cursed man, he had never learned his name.

"You would have us to sit and do nothing?!" William screams, shrill, arms flailing as he takes a step closer to her. Robin scowls at that, but she does not flinch, dark eyes steady as she looks at the boy, a boy almost a man. "While Ben's murderer walks free, terrorizing the land? You'll have us hide within these walls, cowards-"

The boy's mouth snaps shut, surprising even him, Regina has her hand raised, it seems she has closed it for him.

Tension builds as the room sees her magic, but she shocks them all by straightening, "I will go," she says.

"What?" Snow screeches, and Robin feels alarm, knows it is showing on his face as Little John throws him a look. Robin remembers the sleeping potion, and the infection she'd allowed to almost claim her life, and something within him breaks, she's trying for another ending. "I forbid it!" Snow says, nearly shrill, "I command you to stay within these walls!" Snow says, strong and sure, there is fear in her eyes, she knows as well he, it would seem, the danger Regina is to herself.

Regina snorts softly, eyebrows raised, more mockery in her gaze then affront, and "You _command_ me, Snow?" Regina says, and her head tilts, incredulous eyebrows raised.

Snow swallows, stands strong, but in her eyes Robin can already see she knows it is futile.

"I will go," Robin says, he hadn't even realized he'd opened his mouth, but the words are out, and he would not take them back.

Regina hesitates before turning her gaze on him, calm mask carefully arranged over her features, "There will be no need for a thief," she says.

"A lucky thing that I have many skills," he volleys back, unsmiling, angry.

Annoyance flashes across her face, pinching it, but before she can say another word-

"I will go as well," David, Snow clutching at his arm, he looks down at his wife, over to his almost mother-in-law, and smiles a smile that looks more like a grimace. "Just a scouting mission," David clarifies, voice stern, looking at Regina, "do you understand?"

She throws a withering glance at him, lips cinched together, and nods.

* * *

The horses are only half broken, left for twenty eight cursed years without a rider, wandering fields and empty villages; they are wild and no longer accustomed to their saddles or the weight of people. But needs must.

Robin holds the reigns of a young mare with one hand, Roland held against him with the other, the mare is sweet and nudges at his shoulder, nuzzling Roland as he giggles and pats her neck.

Roland starts squirming in Robin's hold though, and Robin doesn't need to look to know that the boy has seen Regina. With a sigh Roland drops his son gently on his feet, watching as he scampers across the yard. Charming comes strutting towards the waiting horses, Regina silent and dark next to him. She's wearing the most utilitarian outfit Robin has seen her in, dark trousers and a tunic, finely made, rich materials, but it is built for a trek, not for fashion, yet it fits her form like a glove. Robin's eyes swing over her, before he clears his throat and fights off a flush when she catches him.

"Regina!" Roland calls, hopping as he approaches her, smile on his face.

David frowns down at the boy, gives Robin a look that he ignores.

Regina kneels down, smiling softly at the child, "Hello, dear," she greets.

"Papa says I can't go," Roland says, all puppy dog eyes and pouting mouth.

"Of course not, Roland," she chastises, and when Roland looks up, offended and hurt she smiles at him, doesn't hesitate to reach out and grab his little hands with her own, "You must stay and defend the castle," she proclaims.

The boy's disappointment melts away; he gapes at her with a grin.

"Our strongest and most brave must stay behind, dear, to protect the innocent," she swings their joined hands slightly, her smile growing, it is more warmth then the sun that beats down on them, "It is a great burden to ask of you, Ser Roland, but please, I would trust no one better."

Roland nods quickly, and Regina sweeps in and kisses Roland's cheek, Robin smiles at that, but when Roland turns to speak of his great duty to his father, Regina stays kneeling on the ground, horror washes over her features as she leans back. Robin frowns, takes a step forward, but Regina climbs to her feet, going to her horse, shoulders tight.

Robin watches her with a frown until Roland starts to tug on his trousers. Robin sweeps down, pulls the boy into a great body crushing hug, "You have your mission, young man," he says, tickling Roland's sides until the child is squealing, "now go, off to the kitchens," Robin places him down, taps him on the rear, "off with you."

Roland scampers off, waving. Robin watches him go, smile fading as the boy disappears from view.

The sweet mare nudges Robin's shoulder, and when he turns he sees David looking at him, eyebrows raised.

"What?" Robin asks, not at all liking the look on the other man's face, it's like he's being judged.

David shrugs and sweeps onto his horse, the biggest of the three, a gelding probably more used to the plow then a saddle.

Robin looks to Regina, she's adjusting the straps of her saddle, her mount is a dark stallion, the beast pawing at the ground, his ears twitching.

Robin had thought that to be David's horse, opens his mouth to question the arrangement of the animals but just as quickly shuts his mouth as she clambers atop the stallions back, settling in her seat as she steers the beast towards the gate. David follows behind on his gelding, gives Robin one more look and turns away.

Robin grumbles and swings himself astride.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	6. Chapter 6

**To the anon who questioned my use of 'ser', well you see in Game of Thrones knights are referred to as Ser so I was like that's more interesting then Sir, so I'm rolling with it.**

* * *

"What!?" Snow shrieks.

And Regina feels the ghost of a smirk on her lips, but it does not linger.

Snow shakes her head, long black hair sweeping about her shoulders, beautiful face hard as stone, "I forbid it! I command you to stay within these walls!"

Regina blinks, almost snorts. Snow has no power over her, and even if she did have, Regina would never be confined anywhere ever again. Her mother had done, King Leopold had done, and Regina would rather die than see another follow in their wake. But Snow has no power, not over Regina, and so it is with mockery that Regina decides to respond, "You command me, Snow?" she says, feels the urge to laugh, at sweet Snow White, following in her father's footsteps after so long, but squashes it down, it would do her no good to look mad.

Snow stands strong, shoulders squared, blinding in her white gown as the sun shines through the high windows, but she already knows her failure, Regina, who'd been this girl's glorified nursemaid, can see it there in her eyes, sad eyes.

"I will go."

Regina swallows, let's a beat pass before she turns her head towards the thief, she smooths her features, blank and uninterested she turns to regard him, "There will be no need for a thief," she says, something far too much like fear churning in her gut.

His arms are crossed, he stares right back at her, and she almost flinches from his anger, "A lucky thing that I have many skills," he bites out, how dare he, she thinks, as if he has any right to that anger, as if she can't do whatever she likes, whenever she likes. Her mask is slipping, she knows; snarl forming on her mouth-

"I will go as well."

Regina turns away from Robin, dark eyes burning into David's as the other man grimaces. Snow is clinging to her husband's arm, imploring eyes looking up at him, he pats her hand comfortingly, once, and Regina burns, watching this little girl gang up on her with her shepherd prince of a husband and her thieving outlaw friend. Corralling her, squeezing her in her grasp…

"Just a scouting mission," David says, like he's talking to a child, "do you understand?"

She almost chokes on her rage, can't speak around it, but sees nothing else to do but nod.

* * *

Snow is there the next day, when the party is set to go, her and Charming, hand in hand, at the base of the central stairs, and they are waiting for Regina.

Regina stops three steps above them, and says nothing, watching from up high.

Snow shifts uncomfortably, and good, Regina thinks, let her squirm.

"Regina," she says, takes a step forward, but not a step up the stairs, hand held behind her now, still in David's grasp.

Regina sighs, deep from her lungs and looks away from those big eyes, they are so much like Henry's and it burns, his absence, his blood, everything about her beautiful baby burns in her for a moment and the pain floods through, a torrent. "What, Snow?" she says, closing her eyes, thwarts the chance of tears.

"Please be careful," Snow says, quiet, whispered.

Regina still does not look at her, eyes still closed, cannot bear to look at her, at the pleading she'll wear on her face, as if she means it, and Regina cannot have her mean it. Hatred runs too deep, hatred has run too deep for too long, every day as Leopold's wife, every day Snow evaded her in the forest, and even every single day in Storybrooke, hatred grew, stabbing deeper and deeper in Regina's heart, hatred for the little girl that couldn't keep one measly secret, the little girl that had stolen Regina's life, her happiness, her dreams, the little girl that had wanted a mother, and the little girl's father that had only been too happy to oblige.

Regina descends without a response, without a glance, and hears behind her as Snow and David say their goodbyes, share a kiss, "I'll take care of her," she hears David say, and rage and despair and a dozen other things boil within her, before they all fade, ebb away like a wave sloshing back to the ocean, she lets them all go, they are worthless, it's all just worthless.

With powerful strides David makes his way next to her, adjusting the sword he wears on his belt, and his hand hovers over the small of her back for a moment, as they walk down the courtyard steps. A wordless snarl escapes her, and David snaps his hand back as if burned, but she sees concern in his eyes, instead of fear.

The sun shines high above them in the blue, cloudless sky, it shines off Roland's hair as he comes scurrying across the courtyard, and a smile tipped with sadness settles on Regina's face. The emptiness so recently settled makes way for a small spark of fondness for the little boy. He nearly trips twice on the edge of his cloak. "Regina!" he calls, as if she is not just a step away.

Regina falls to one knee before him, "Hello, dear," she says, looking at this beautiful, happy child.

"Papa says I can't go," he says, pouting, those dark eyes widened pitifully, and Regina could have chuckled if she'd had the strength, she'd long become immune to the effects of puppy eyes and pouts.

"Of course not, Roland," she says, reaching out for his tiny hands, folding them up in her own, hurt blooms on his little face, "You must stay and defend the castle," she continues, smiles as the hurt disappears as fast as it had appeared. She runs her thumbs over his soft, chubby little hands as she swings them softly, he's such tiny child, it seems so long ago Henry was so small. "Our strongest and most brave must stay behind, dear, to protect the innocent."

He grins at her, nothing but happiness on his face.

"It is a great burden to ask of you, Ser Roland, but please, I would trust no one better," she finishes her little act in this play, the Queen and her brave Knight.

He frantically nods his head, gaze as serious as a little boys can be, biting his lips, and like it is nothing, she leans in to capture his cheek with a kiss, soft, warm skin pliant against her lips, and it's only as she leans back that sorrow washes over her.

A child.

Not her child.

Never again her child.

She climbs to her feet, would rather lay unmoving forever, but climbs to her feet, she's going to bring Ben's body back, to his brothers, perhaps not heroic, but the right thing, what Henry would want. She will do what Henry would want her to do.

Regina steps towards her horse, he is dark, and angry, paws at the ground as she nears, and perhaps he will throw her, she thinks. His ears threaten to flatten on his head as she adjusts the straps, they had been too tight, but the horse seems no more comfortable than before, glares at her with large, dark eyes. And yes, she thinks he will throw her.

She climbs into the saddle, turning the beast towards the gate.

* * *

"The boy is fond of you," David says much later, David is not a natural rider, is jittery and nervous, which makes the horse under him jittery and nervous.

But she does not care.

And she does not answer his thinly veiled question, because it had been a question, suspicion lined into every word, like he thinks she were planning some horrible fate for the boy.

Robin calls up from behind them, swaying gently with his mares strides, "Very fond," he tells David.

Regina looks at neither of them.

* * *

A widowmaker is creaking off in the woods.

Regina has heard it for the last few minutes.

"He is very fond of you, you know," Robin says, and she hadn't known he'd taken David's place beside her, she'd been lost in her thoughts.

Regina looks at him, and tightens her grasp on the reins, before averting her gaze.

"I'm grateful," Robin continues, and Regina knows that he is looking at her, can feel his gaze, "to see him smile so."

Regina takes a breath, and another, "He's a charismatic child," she says.

She hears a chuckle, "It's the dimples, I think," he says.

Regina feels the corners of her lips moving upward, "The dimples you gave him?" and again his chuckle floats through the air, "He's beautiful," she says, and the heartbreak is so close to the surface, her smile slips away, because she'd had a beautiful child too, once, but not anymore. Her beautiful baby boy, her everything, he was- he was _everything_.

That's when the widowmaker falls, crashing to the ground with a sharp crack somewhere off to the right.

The stallion startles under her, rears back on his hind legs, bucking wildly,

it runs through her mind how far off the ground she is, what damage could be done in the fall, a vision of blood splattered on the hard packed trail flashes before her, but she shoves it violently back, jumbled and fast and confusing she thinks that this is an end, presented to her...easy

she lets her hands slip from the reins

and the stallion throws her.

She regrets the decision the moment after it's made.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	7. Chapter 7

A crack rips through the air.

The mare tries to bolt, Robin pulls on her reigns, blood thrumping suddenly through his ears, he tuts his tongue as the animal spins wildly, wickers and dances, her hooves far too close to where Regina has curled up in a ball on the ground.

The stallion had thrown her.

Robin barely keeps his seat, but the mare lacks the power to cast him off, he works to calm the beast, eyes wide as he whips his head wildly to keep Regina in his view, she has not moved. Regina had yelped as she'd struck the ground, but then only silence.

And the sound reverberates in Robin's mind as he calms the frantic animal, until he's able to sweep off his mare, a comforting hand running on her neck as he scurries to Regina's side.

"Regina," he calls, hands on her, running over her shoulders, her back, afraid to move her, the stallion had stomped angrily above her before bolting, Robin fears the worst, a shattered skull, caved in chest cavity, a wound so sudden and dire that she hadn't even had time to cry out. "Regina," he breaths, desperate.

The winded groan she exhales is almost music to his ears, and he closes his eyes in relief for only a moment before opening them again, looking at her as she rolls to her back, legs scuttling against the hard packed dirt of the trail, and she is almost in his lap as she looks up into the blue sky and coughs.

He isn't even aware of the grip he's got on her coat, fingers clenched in the dark fabric, but then David is beside him, the other man smooths Robin's hands, working at his fingers and he's talking to him.

"It's alright, let her up," David says, finally loosens Robin's fingers.

But the woman doesn't get up, makes no move to get up, and she's not coughing any longer but almost wheezing, deep lungfulls of air drawn in, and then choked out. David seems surprised, like he'd expected her to walk away unscathed, "Regina," David says, concern coloring his voice as he reaches forward and sweeps a lock of hair out of her face, "Hey, Regina, you okay?" he asks.

She turns her face away from David's hand, and she might be nodding.

"Regina," and now David looks pretty close to panic, eyes wide, and Robin watches him, frantic. She grumbles something, curls over on her arm, facing away from them. "Are you okay?" David repeats, hands hovering over her back, but he does not touch her.

"Fine," she hisses at them, but she makes no further move to stand.

David opens his mouth, probably to ask the exact same question again, but Robin lays a hand on his wrist, shakes his head when David turns to look at him.

"We'll make camp," Robin says, "It's nearing sundown, and I don't fancy traveling the trail in the dark. My mare will break a leg."

She rocks until she plies herself into a sitting position, faces away from them.

After a moment with no answer, but for a curl of her back, Robin nods at David, and they both stand, concerned eyes looking back at her every step as they go to where the gelding is chomping on some grass.

She staggers to her feet, and follows after, stops to grab and lead the mare. Fifteen minutes off the trail, closed in by big, old roots, sprung up from dark and moist dirt, they settle.

Regina conjures a fire, and sits heavily next to it.

* * *

David snores.

And while Robin has had to share many a camp site with many a snorer, he finds David's the most grating, and he tosses and turns on his bedroll for a while before he shoots up with a huff.

He finds amused brown eyes watching him over the crackling fire. She'd been the first watch.

"You think this is funny?" he asks, trying and failing to keep irritation out of his voice, because he hasn't seen that good humor directed at anyone but Roland and he'd like to keep it there.

Regina shrugs one shoulder, a flicker of pain crosses her face before she turns her gaze away from him, but a smirk still rests on her lips, "I do," she admits, doesn't even quiet her voice, not that the sleeping man even notices.

"He'd keep you awake as well," Robin grumbles, grabs a long stick and pokes at the fire.

"I've slept beside worse," she says, and it's quiet.

Yes, he thinks, she probably had.

Robin lifts his gaze from the flames, watches shadows dance on her turned away face, her lovely face, "Are you in pain?" he asks, and he knows she is, can tell by her hunched back, the arm she wraps around her ribs.

"No," she tells him though.

Robin shakes his head, eyebrows raised. Minutes pass in silence.

"Who will you ride with?" he asks her.

"Excuse me?" she asks, turns to him, startled, like she'd forgotten he was awake.

"Who will you ride with?" he asks again, studying her as her face crumples in confusion and then a solid grimace.

"Oh," she says.

He chuckles, "oh, is right," he says, crinkles in the corner of his eyes as he looks at her.

"I haven't shared a horse since I was a child," she mumbles, bewildered.

"My mare would hold us both, I think," he mentions, as innocently as possible, but he can't keep the smirk off his face, he'd have no problem with her so close.

She snorts, and it's quite an unladylike gesture, yet she does it quite often. He likes it.

"I'll ride with David," she says, and a real shot of jealously shoots through Robin, unexpected and hot, suddenly the other man's snores are the most annoying thing Robin has ever heard.

"My mare is so sweet though," Robin says, voice light, but the jealousy boils, even as he tells himself he is silly, and too old to be feeling like this, and in any case David is very Truly in love with Snow White, so it does not matter if Regina would rather wrap her arms around David, ride behind David, front to back with David. "And," he gestures at the sleeping man, "his shoulders are so broad you won't be able to see a thing from around him, what if we were to encounter an ambush?"

She's looking at him like he's mad.

And quite suddenly he _feels_ mad.

An awkward silence follows and it's not often Robin feels awkward but it's on him now and-

"If," she says, "David is amicable to the idea of putting all the supplies on that plow horse of his," she pauses, takes a breath, and looks at him, and he thinks he sees her flinch, "then the mare could hold you and I."

He swallows, pokes the fire, but he knows_ could_ is not the same as _will._

"You should sleep," he tells her, sits straighter, "I'll keep watch."

She shakes her head, "You have another two ho-"

"I cannot sleep while this cacophony," and he smirks as he waves vaguely over David's form, "erupts from this man."

The grateful expression she throws him is unexpected, as is her easy acquiescence, and she must be hurt worse than Robin had suspected, with a nod she turns away, lowering herself gingerly onto her bedroll.

Robin watches her fire lit back between monitoring the woods, and is filled with reassurance as he can see her lungs filling, and exhaling, softly, rising, then falling, she's quiet in her sleep.

He wakes David hours later, for his watch.

"I don't know how Snow gets any sleep with you around," he mumbles and doesn't wait for a response before he sprawls and is asleep at once.

* * *

The next morning when Robin sees David loading up the gelding with all the supplies he can't help the bright smile that lights his face, and David narrows his eyes as he cinches a saddle bag, looks confused as Robin claps a hand on his shoulder. Regina is gently rubbing the mare's nose, whispering to the horse like it's an old friend; he thinks his smile will never wear away.

But he does manage to bring it down somehow, he knows that Regina is as skittish as the stallion that had thrown her, and even a smile is enough to have her bolt.

He climbs into the saddle and holds out a hand to her, patient and waiting as she looks at the hand, then his face.

It's with a sigh that she eventually lets him help her up.

She settles behind him, tries to keep her distance, even as she wraps her arms loosely around his middle, barely holding on, but the saddle is only so large. After one step he hears a hiss from her, so close to his ear.

"Are you alright?" he asks quietly, rests a hand over one of hers.

"Fine," and he can imagine the grimace on her features as the lie shoots through her lips.

"You can lean on me," he whispers, doesn't look at her, knows she'd rather he not.

"I don't need too," she answers.

He fights the urge to sigh, "I know you don't," he tells her.

Another three slow steps of the horse and then she does though, warm and solid against his back, she sighs, painfilled and sharp, the air blows across the back of his neck. Her arms tighten around his middle and he can feel her tucking her forehead between his shoulder blades.

He pats her hand softly, and passes by David, staring at them.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	8. Chapter 8

She let's go of the reins.

She could have kept her seat, could have calmed the stallion,

but instead she _drops_ _the reins_.

Tumbling from the saddle, instant regret washes over her, it's too late to take it back.

Henry wouldn't want this, she knows and what _she_ wants is unclear, but it isn't this, not this, she'd seen a stable hand thrown and trampled once, the most brutal thing she'd seen at the time, the boys legs broken, and he had screamed and screamed and when a hoof met his skull there was only blood and bone and brain matter, his handsome face gone.

Once on the ground, air stolen from her lungs by the impact, eyes slammed shut; she curls up instantly, her legs and arms drawn in, away from savage hooves of the stomping stallion.

Blood pumps through her veins, thrumming in her head, she chokes on dirt and dust, fear tenses her whole body in that tight little ball, even as agony rips through her chest, courtesy of at least two broken ribs.

_She'd let go of the reins_.

Her name is being called, she can barely hear.

Hands are on her back, gentle and hesitant, they run over her shoulders. Strength flows through those hands. Robin.

Regina unfurls herself, stifles a cry as she does so, lies on her back in the dirt, coughing, head pounding with adrenaline. When she opens her eyes her vision erupts in bright spots, she tries to blink them away. Pain lances up her body, and that's not right, that's not right because she's escaped plenty worse than this completely unscathed.

Robin is clutching at her arm, his fingers digging into the fabric, pinching her skin in a bruising grip.

She'll heal herself, she decides, and it'll be like she hadn't made this mistake at all, she tries to pull the magic forward but it won't come. She tries again, wheezing, the ribs shifting, and her magic still won't come.

"It's alright, let her up."

And Robin's hands are gone, cold where warmth had been.

She is nothing without her magic. Horror washes over her, her magic won't come, _useless_, a voice whispers, _defenseless_, another cries.

"Regina," David's voice, "Hey, Regina, you okay?"

Her hair is swept back off her forehead, and the touch lingers, David's calloused fingers against her face.

Regina turns away.

Defenseless, the voice says, louder, and she rolls off her back, curls over her arm, breathes in and keeps a gasp from escaping, the pain is excruciating. "Regina, are you okay?" David asks again.

"Fine," she grits out through her teeth, blinking until the spots disappear.

She can feel their eyes on her back; she takes care to smooth her breathing, blinks back tears, unwilling to let either man see her that vulnerable.

A weighty pause and then, "We'll make camp," Robin says, "It's nearing sundown, and I don't fancy traveling the trail in the dark. My mare will break a leg."

Regina swallows, decides to accept this flimsy excuse, will not think of how she's the reason they need to stop. She gets herself sitting, legs sprawled in the dirt, and sweat is beginning to dot her forehead.

She is a fool, she thinks, she could have landed unhurt, but had failed even in that, her foot had caught for just a second in the stirrup, and she knows she is lucky she escaped without a mangled and twisted leg, but her failure still burns, right along with her broken ribs.

She hears them rise, walk away from her, has to work herself up until, with a grimace and a whimper that she hopes they didn't hear, rises, staggering, curled into herself. She reaches almost blindly for the mare, snatches its reins and sighs in gratitude when the animal follows easily.

It's an eternity before the men she follows finally stop, in that time she's attempted to heal herself twice, and each time had left her exhausted and thoroughly unhealed, bright spots and dizziness erupting after the last failure, she'd fallen against the mare, barely held herself up as she almost passed out.

David calls an end to their trek, and his worried eyes look at her, his concern chafing at her, this ignorant shepherd turned prince, he looks at her with pity and she knows David presumes to see a broken person instead of the Queen she'd once been, the Mayor she was for years longer, the woman she is, the mother, the fighter, most of all the survivor, and she won't think about her now numerous attempts on her own life because at her core she is a survivor, had survived her mother and her cruelty, had survived Leopold and the dignity stealing acts he called her duty, and in that instant David is every wrong and terrible thing done to Regina, she imagines him in flames, screaming as it eats at his skin, and it is her mother burning, and it is Leopold burning, but most of all it is Snow, her sweet voice, her doe eyes, the innocence she drapes about her shoulders, it is all burned black.

She feels a spark through her, shocking and painful, and a fire sprouts out of nothing right beside her. She collapses, strength used up in that one trick, but a sigh of relief works between her lips, her magic is there, it will not heal her, but it is there to protect her, and she finds it in herself to smile.

* * *

"I'll keep watch," she says, doesn't look to see the suspicion in their eyes.

"I'll follow after, and then you David?" Robin responds, and David is already sprawling in his bedroll, a smile on his face.

* * *

As darkness falls, both men quiet and still, Regina blinks from the fire, to the trees, and back.

Her face is blank, the storm of emotions raging inside of her hidden. A force of habit.

One more failed attempt at healing done an hour ago has left her exhausted, in agony, and completely pissed off. Healing magic had never been her strongest skill, her first and only lesson had Rumple running her straight through with a short sword, surprised her with it at what was promised to be a potion session (she can still remember coughing up blood, looking up at his giggling face as he'd pulled the weapon out) and even after healing the mortal wound it had ached for years, no visible scar on her smooth skin (because Leopold would surely have been displeased) but on the inside, where no one could see, it was still, decades later, a mess of scar tissue, many attempts to fix it all for naught, but she had healed it, had saved her own life, passable Rumple had said, with disappointment in his eyes as he looked down at her curled up on the blood covered floor.

Even with her rudimentary skills it should be laughably easy, her wounds aren't even life threatening, painful certainly, but not life threatening.

Frustration makes her want to scream, and the inadequacy she has felt in some form or another all her life erupts now in a violent bout of self-loathing.

Weak, a voice whispers in her mind, the fire blazes white hot in response, her fingers tensing and she shakes her head.

Returning here, to the Enchanted Forest, to the kingdom she'd left behind, it was never something she wanted, she thought she was done with this place, this place that had never been kind to her, she'd killed her own worthless and spineless father, her kind and patient father to be rid of this place, and all its horrors and treachery. Finding herself here, after so long, and having lost so much, it tears her apart, reawakens feelings she'd buried. This place will be her downfall, she thinks.

That's when she notices Robin beginning to toss and turn, grunting unhappily every once and a while, and it takes perhaps five minutes of silently watching, but a smirk grows on her face.

And when Robin harumphs up, glaring at David, the smirk is slow to disappear

* * *

"Sweet girl," she murmurs, stroking Robin's mare softly.

Nerves run up and down her spine, and even now it's running through her that this is a mistake, sharing Robin's mount, being close to him in any sense, it is all a great mistake, worse even than letting herself fall from the stallion.

The man has a way of getting under her armor, and her armor is all she has.

But he had seemed upset at the notion of her sharing a seat with David, and the idea had not exactly thrilled her either, she has only the two options, since she let her stallion run off into the sunset, and of the two only Robin's touch gives her strength.

He must have some latent magic, she has decided, similar enough to her own at its base, similar enough for her to be able to draw from it. He has a distrust of magic that runs deep, she can see it in his face every time it is mentioned or seen, and she wonders how he'd feel if he knew it ran in his own blood. In the blood he shares with his son, magic is in Roland's blood.

He's smiling as he comes next to her, and as if from far away she realizes he has a handsome smile, those dimples of his on full display, crinkles at the corners of his eyes that speak of years well lived, he has a spattering of grey at each temple.

He climbs into his saddle, holds a hand out to her, his smile never dimming and such boundless enthusiasm irritates her usually (always) but she can't muster up anything but a rather lackluster sigh as she takes use of his help and lifts up behind him. The pain of climbing, of being pulled, nearly has her blacking out. She wraps her arms around his middle, loosely, feeling faint but she will not be some damsel on the back of his horse, but the mare takes one step and the pain comes sharper, it tightens her grasp slightly and a hiss escapes unheeded.

"Are you alright?" Robin asks her, and David doesn't turn from where he's climbed upon the gelding, hopefully doesn't hear the quietly asked question. Robin rests a hand over her own, and instantly her fingers are warm between his abdomen and his palm. That strength, that magic, the comfort of a heavy fur in winter, it pulls between them, buoys her.

"Fine," she says, and it's almost halfway true.

"You can lean on me," he tells her, and she wishes the offer weren't so tempting, and it's only partly because of the power she can pull from him, he smells like forest the same way Daniel always smelled of the stable, it's a warm smell, humid and peaceful, heavy and comforting.

"I don't need too," and she doesn't, has never leaned on anyone.

"I know you don't," he says, and he looks straight down the path they travel, the mare walking with slow strides, he doesn't look at her as she fights with herself, because she knows she's never leaned on anyone, figuratively or literally, because no one had ever been there to be leaned _on_.

A few more steps and she relaxes against him, the decision made, and what that decision means, because it doesn't mean trust, or friendship, she doesn't know, but she relaxes against his hard back, tucks herself there with a sigh, with her front to his back she is immersed in calming free flowing magic, and it doesn't dim at all as it passes from him to her, and she only worries for a moment what this drain, and it must drain him, will do to Robin.

He pats her hand softly and then rests it, leaves his hand over hers, his thumb running over the back of her hand.

* * *

It's long and silent hours later that they find Ben's body, laid out like a present.

They dismount the horses and leave them at the edge of the clearing.

Regina can sense no magic, not in the clearing, nor on the headless body, but David draws his sword and Robin pulls back an arrow, the two men flanking her as she walks towards the corpse, steps over fragrant flowers and through long grass to where Ben has been lain with his hands folded over his chest.

"Would you know if the witch is close?" David asks, whispering.

Regina thinks for a moment, taking tow more steps, she is not certain and says so.

"She could be watching," Robin says, narrowed eyes gazing into the trees.

Regina takes another step, something shifts out of the corner of her eye. She stops, not turning her head, but her eyes swish to the side, stare into the impossible darkness between the trees to the west, and it's not the witch but her monkey friends that Regina senses there after a moment of gentle prodding with her magic, she can hear chittering in the woods after another moment, the monkeys growing impatient, knows Robin can hear it too.

Regina takes another step, ignores the grunted warning from Robin, "Come on," she urges the men softly, her steps not too fast or strained.

The men follow her, "Regina," David warns.

Regina reaches Ben's body, kneels beside it and with a roll of her hand beckons David and Robin towards her, urge them to kneel next to her, "Grab on," she says just as the inhuman screech fills the air.

A monkey flies in, nightmarish mouth open and filled with yellow fangs, claws open and bloody, but the group is already gone, Regina and Robin and David, all puffed away in purple smoke.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	9. Chapter 9

They fall into thick mud from a foot off the ground, landing with a huge squeach on top of the corpse. Regina is panting like she's ran ten miles, she's very pale as she sits in the mud, elbow deep in it when she falls forward, her eyes are closed.

David groans in disgust as he drags himself out into the creek they landed next to, "Why'd you land us here?" he gripes, wading into the water up to his waist and then dunking his head, washing the mud from his face.

Robin scoots closer to Regina and brushes a thick, muddied tendril of hair over her shoulder. He rests his hand against the back of her neck, "Are you alright?"

She nods, her eyes remain closed, still breathing hard, but she pushes herself through the mud, half crawling, Robin's hand falls away from her.

Regina pushes herself into the creek after David with a grunt of exertion, on hands and knees, her eyes _still_ closed and Robin follows after her, wraps his arms around her waist when she makes no effort to stand and rests her back to his front, she's boneless against him, still panting, her head lolled back onto his shoulder. He glides in until the water is just below her shoulders. He shakes her a little, "Regina," he cups water in his hand and starts to clear mud from her face, from her hair. "Regina, what happened to you?" Robin asks, worry knitting his brow.

David wades next to them, reaches out and grasps one of her limp arms around the bicep, "Regina, where are we?" David asks, she does not answer, but her breathing is evening out and Robin feels the pulse point on her neck, the beat of her heart is slowing. "Regina," David says again, and he shakes her arm, her whole body jostles against Robin, like a rag doll.

"Hey!" Robin growls angrily, glaring, sliding away from David.

"We need to know where we are," David says, has the sense to look chastised.

Regina's eyes blink open, her head rolls forward and her face splats into the water before she splutters up.

"Regina," David says, approaches smoothly, and his hands are raised as if to show he has nothing to harm her with, "hey, where'd we land? How far are we from the castle?"

She looks around, her hands come and rest on Robin's forearm, still wrapped around her abdomen under the water. Her ribs, Robin remembers then, but he can think of no other way to hold her up in the water.

"It's the Weeping," she says like it's obvious.

"How far from the castle are we?" David asks, looking around, eyes finding the corpse left in the mud and frowning.

"A mile," she answers, "perhaps two," her head lolls back to Robin's shoulder and if anything she sinks further into his embrace, Robin tightens his grasp on her in response, his cheek resting against her wet hair. He's worried she'll faint right away, drown in the water when no one is looking.

"Which way?" David demands, and when he sees Regina, weak and limp in Robin's hold he snaps forward, frustration scrunching his face, "Hey-"

Robin grabs at the hand David is stretching out, and David looks surprised.

"You touch her again I'll break your fingers," Robin growls.

David tears his hand away, "Why couldn't you take us straight to the castle?" he demands, his hands are resting on his waist below the water.

"He was cursed," she murmurs, and a lazy splash indicates the corpse left in the mud.

"Regina, what do you mean?" Robin asks, because the head was cursed, did the body share it?

"Cursed to trap us, but I tore us away," she says, slurred, making another motion with her arm. Her bandages are soaked in red tinted mud, it looks like blood on the bandages. He hopes her stitches haven't torn, he worries about another infection.

Robin shakes her softly, pushes wet stringy hair off her face.

"Which way to the castle?" David asks, and he's schlepping out of the water, his boots sticking to the mud the closer he gets to the bank.

"Upstream," Regina says, and she turns her face towards Robin's neck, nuzzles against him, like a cat searching for warmth. Robin sighs for a moment, pushing his nose into her hair, holding her to him.

The water is warm, and her weight and that of the dead man will be easier to carry in the water, he calls out to David, who looks particularly disgruntled as he tugs on the corpses legs until it slugs out of the mud.

David and Robin, both with their respective charges, plow upstream.

* * *

It takes them hours, taking multiple breaks on the bank, their skin pruny and wrinkled as the midday sun beats down on them, it takes them hours to reach the castle.

Regina regains some semblance of coherence for a while, enough to explain better how much magic she'd used to escape the trap that had been set, and she does not say it but Robin knows, knows how utterly and awfully depleted her strength had been by their escape. Robin plies her with stories to keep her awake, he's frightened by the way her eyes blankly look at him, blinking slowly. He's frightened by the way she makes no move to escape his hold, how she's as limp as when he'd first placed her back against his chest.

She smiles softly at tales of Roland's escapades, and scoffs just as softly at tales of Robin's heroism.

Softly asked questions mumble through her lips every now and again, and Robin finds himself charmed by how hard she's trying to follow his tales, when it is so obvious she's close to blacking out. Robin wonders if she is trying so hard for his sake, he wonders if she can see how close he is to panic.

David's grumbles grow louder and louder, but he doesn't suggest switching burdens.

When finally the thick outer wall at the rear of the castle can be seen, Regina has slipped back into a daze, had fought against it but she'd fallen unconscious, eyes half open but unseeing, her arms floating along the water.

A guard quickly spots them, calls behind him and in less than ten minutes a group, led by Snow, is pelting out a small gate, meeting them at the edge of the creek and helping them out. Robin lets Little John take Regina from him, watches as the other man cradles the Queen against his chest with an arm around her shoulders and an arm under her knees, and Robin, for the first time, realizes how the muscles in his arms and legs burn from their trek.

"What happened?" Snow asks, worried eyes sweeping between Robin, David, and Regina.

David drops the corpse to the ground, shakes his head and he looks so sorry in that instant, like he's failed in some way.

"Is she wounded?" Snow asks, when her husband has no words.

She steps closer to Regina, places a hesitant hand on her dripping boot.

"A curse laid on the corpse drained her magic, exhausted it," Robin explains, he shakes his head, "and she has some injuries to her ribs, her horse threw her." Snow looks absolutely horrified.

"Let me look at her," a gruff voice calls. The group parts for the old woman, Granny, to approach, Granny tilts Regina's head towards her, cracks open an eyelid and tsks her tongue, she ushers Little John irritably forward with a sharp gesture, "Come on, quick now," Little John glances at Robin, and Robin nods.

Robin leaves the corpse to David and walks beside Little John, eyes intent on Regina, his gaze wandering to Granny, before always coming back to Regina, and he wishes he could take her back, carry her in his own arms but he hasn't the strength at all. He claps a hand against John's shoulder, his gratitude shining in his eyes and Little John smiles reassuringly.

* * *

Robin sits straddling a bench, the warmth of the kitchen welcome as evening descends quickly, Regina rests against his chest, her back to his front, and he has both arms wrapped around her waist to hold her against him. She's heavy and uncoordinated. His heart is pounding in terrible worry.

She's murmuring now, eyes open, blinking rapidly, and Robin is afraid she's seeing what isn't really there.

Granny holds a hunk of chocolate in her hand, scavenged from a hiding place further in the kitchen, "She needs to eat it, it'll help rebuild her magic," she explains.

Robin trusts her judgment, she's hard, but he has heard she is kind. And her knowledge is more than his own, magic, he doesn't know a thing of it really.

"Regina," he says, so close to her ear, her wet hair against his cheek, she turns her head slightly towards him, "you need to eat this, can you please eat this?"

Granny hands him the hunk, sucking melted chocolate off her fingers as she watches as he holds it before Regina's face. Regina shakes her head violently, squirming against him.

He tightens his hold, his one arm wrapped around her waist, "Regina," he says soothingly, "Regina, calm down. Please, just eat this little bit of chocolate, please. It's only chocolate."

She's weakly grasping at his arm, grappling at him, "I don't want to," she moans, and it's quiet and absolutely heartbreaking, the way her voice cracks.

Robin looks over her shoulder at Granny and Little John, his eyes slip closed, scrunch shut, his whole face scrunching, he tucks his head down into the crook of her neck, his face buried in her wet curls, "I won't make you, never," he says, "It's only chocolate, Regina, can you hear me?"

She starts kicking her legs, knocking at the long wooden table beside them, silverware left out rattles, and Robin is now sure she isn't hearing him at all.

"Please," she gasps, "Please, don't."

Granny steps forward, her face hard as stone but there are tears in her eyes when Robin looks up at her, and a flare of anger flashes through her face, "Shhhh," she soothes though, her voice soft, she cups the back of Regina's head when Robin gives her the space to do so, "girl," she says, "calm down."

And Regina does calm a little, but still kicks, weaker now, she'd lost one of her boots somewhere, in the mud or in the creek, one bare foot kicks and kicks, "Send him someone else," she pleads, she reaches up and holds onto Granny's wrist.

"I have," Granny says easily, "I've sent him someone else," she says, "You don't have too, girl, shhh, it's alright."

Regina wilts at the words, collapses against Robin. Granny looks at Robin for a moment and takes the chocolate from his idle hands, and completely shocks him by grabbing Regina's chin, her other hand still at the back of Regina's head, forcing the chocolate into her mouth and then putting a hand over her lips.

Regina starts to buck wildly, screams trapped in her mouth and she's clawing at Granny's hand, drawing blood with her ferocious fight.

Robin holds onto her, Granny does too and it takes a full two minutes before Regina stops, and she's just breathing deeply, eyes wide, and she begins to chew the huge chunk.

"Good girl," Granny sighs, pets Regina's tangled hair.

* * *

"She was called the Child Queen," Granny says sometime later.

Regina is wrapped in a thick blanket by the roaring kitchen fire, had been there since her fourth hunk of chocolate. She is still in her mud stained clothes, so is Robin.

Robin looks at Granny, at her lined face in the orange light of the fire, and she looks weary and sad and angry and a thousand other things, and she stares at Regina curled up on the floor, Regina's knees drawn up towards her chest. He waits.

"When she first married King Leopold," Granny says, "I don't know how old she was, but people called her the Child Queen," Granny tightens the grasp she's got on her own blanket, she rocks softly in her chair.

Robin seethes in useless anger, at an old man long dead, a royal who'd taken what he would.

Granny lapses into silence and when they wake Regina for her final hunk of chocolate not long after she is herself, tired, but her eyes are clear.

Her hair has dried in wild curls, tangled and a mess, her face is clear of any powders or added pigment, she chews the mouthful tiredly, and when Robin reaches for her hand she interlaces their fingers in a way so natural that he doesn't notice it at first. She falls back asleep holding his hand as he sits beside her.

* * *

When next Robin wakes up there are birds singing outside the high windows of the kitchen and the sun is just thinking of rising, there is no hustle bustle of people cooking breakfast, not yet, still too early.

He'd moved to a chair in the night, the cold of the stone floor driving him away from her side. The feeling of her hand in his is still with him, held fondly in his thoughts.

He glances at Granny, still in her rocking chair, fast asleep, and then down to Regina, still curled in her nest of blankets.

There is a suspicious lump in those blankets though.

Robin leans forward, tugs on a corner of the blanket and raises it to see Regina with Roland in her arms. Roland blinks owlishly at him.

"Hi Papa," he whispers.

Robin smiles, "What are you doing, my boy?" he whispers just as quietly.

"Just sleeping," Roland answers, and turns to snuggle against Regina, his head resting against her breast.

Regina mumbles, shifts herself and the child, she's still asleep, she sooths Roland's wild bedhead curls softly, places a kiss to the top of his head and settles, and it's the most beautiful thing Robin has ever seen. These two people sleeping softly in the dawn light, both warm and safe.

He lets the blanket down gently, and decides that one day he'll be there too, safe and warm with his arms wrapped around Regina, waking up to her beautiful face.


	10. Chapter 10

**YO THIS GETS ACTUALLY REALLY INTENSE OK**

Sitting in thick mud, on the verge of dying, Regina has the intense urge to laugh.

Her supposed sister has power, yes, but no _training_.

She'll laugh about it later she decides.

"Are you alright?" and Robin's hand is on her neck, warm and solid and the magic rolling off of him is a painful shock, to go from absolute nothing, to that huge rush, it's too much, Regina nods, and dredges away from his touch, never once opening her eyes.

The gentle lapping of water is in front of her and she pushes herself towards it, doesn't want to die in a mud pit like a diseased farm animal.

The water is warm and she stays there, panting, letting it lap at her, she can't stand, can't move at all. The green witch had tried to lay a trap in that headless body, she'd tied that corpse to one location, it was meant to pull Regina to that location using her own magic against her.

The urge to laugh is even stronger now, the bitch had misspelled the runes of the spell.

The instant Regina's purple magic had touched the corpse, Regina could feel the pull of the spell, and fought desperately against it, she'd spent three seconds too long in the inbetween doing so, the place that is neither here nor there nor anywhere, it was painful there if you spent too long, and draining. In her panic, in her fight, she'd found a weak spot though, those three seconds crucial to her escape. A misspelled rune in the foundation of greenie's spell, and Regina had exploited it to its fullest extent, had torn away in a huge display of power, all the power that remained to her after what the inbetween claimed, used up in an instant.

Her whole body aches, her ribs, her fingers, and it is cold, the water is warm around her but it does nothing, the emptiness is too deep, she is cold right down to her blackened heart.

As if in response to that melodramatic thought, warm, strong arms wrap around her waist, tug her bodily up and it's Robin, his warmth and magic and his shining, untouched, red beating heart and the rush of it has her almost fainting. Her back is placed against his chest and she collapses against him, and there is no physical fight left in her, she can feel every breath he takes, can feel the beating of his heart, and her eyes are closed but she can see it inside him, magic the same color as hers, pulsing under his skin, jumping in little stinging arcs from him to her and it's painful agony, searing, burning agony, it's everything for a moment, all she can feel, all she can comprehend.

She's being moved, jostled maybe, and she doesn't even know where she is, who she is, and she doesn't care at all, her whole world now the muscled arm around her waist, the agony of magic rushing back into her body, that is everything _and a woman with dark hair and a smile like the sun is pregnant with their child, a beautiful child, a son, and he met her when she was wearing lilac and it was the color he loved on her and she has dark eyes and their child has dark eyes and they are happy_

_ blood_

_ a final breath, a word 'love' she says and she says it in dreams of her and she is wearing lilac bleeding and looks with dark eyes and says 'love'_

_ agony_

_'love'_

_ the child cries and cries the child with dark eyes and_

Regina's face hits water, and it's all gone.

She splutters up, coughing and blinking her eyes, and it's all gone and she's left with David in front of her, an aggravated look on his face.

"Regina," David says, and Regina's eyes narrow, trying to focus on the man who stays determinately blurry around the edges, "hey, where'd we land? How far are we from the castle?"

She grips at Robin's arm around her waist, the phantom of the woman in lilac, _Marian,_ an after image on her retinas, _bleeding bleeding, _she shakes herself, the mud she can barely see on the bank around them is tinted red, _blood pouring from her mouth with 'love', _it's iron, "It's the Weeping," Regina answers,

"How far from the castle are we?" David asks and what kind of King is he that he doesn't know his backyard.

"A mile, perhaps two," and she's surprised she was able to land them so close, proud of it actually, and her eyes close, her neck loose and the back of her head thumps back onto Robin's shoulder, and she realizes he's holding her entirely; she can't reach the bottom of the creek.

She's so tired.

"Which way?"

Regina thinks, back to old maps, lit by candle light so long ago, a different world, a different time.

"Hey-" but whatever David is going to say is cut off, Robin snarls at him, his mouth inches from her ear.

"You touch her again I'll break your fingers," he growls, and then it's all blurry and she can feel her mouth moving but doesn't know what she's saying and her brain is heavy and her body is heavy and god she's tired, more tired than she's ever been and Robin's magic is warm and his body is warm and she turns her head, burrows into his neck she thinks, inhales the smell of him.

And bloody Marian drifts away and the bloody banks of the Weeping drift away.

Robin tells her of Roland and of himself and it's almost enough but soon she succumbs to darkness and the nightmares will come because she has no shields to hide behind.

She should have just let the witch capture them she thinks, but doesn't mean it as she falls half asleep.

* * *

And then she's hallucinating.

And it isn't real.

She killed him.

He's dead.

"I don't want too," she cries and she's sixteen on her wedding day, her birthday, he'd waited for her birthday.

A white nightgown that she clenches between sweaty palms and they ply her from her chambers and giggle at her nerves and it's just nerves because he is her husband and he wouldn't hurt her and you'll see it's nice you'll like it, giggling giggling, but they aren't giggling when there's more blood then they'd expected and there's blood every night after and she cries herself to sleep and she must be making him like this, chastising her, he had never been like this with Queen Eva

"Please, Please don't," and she looks up at him, and he puts a hand over her mouth and it hurts god it hurts and she's only eighteen and she's lost two pregnancies and is afraid he'll know about the latest, the blood staining her sheets and her handmaids will tell him, Rumple she whispers and clutches the sheets and the mattress is stained underneath and she cries Rumple and he comes and he changes the bedding with magic and soothes her hair from her face and looked sad in a way he'd never looked before and let her cry to him and he told her she would get her revenge

Snow calls her 'mother' but she is not her mother and she loses one more baby and he knew, she'd begun to show and she is worthless, useless, and god he is hurting her and she is sore and she cries and cries and she knows the guards are right outside his chamber doors and she cries but knows they won't come no one will come because she is his wife and it is her duty and he is only doing his duty but

"Send him someone else,"

Whores, to use them and pay them when he is disgusted with Regina and he likes them more and more now that Regina is twenty-two and he likes them young and supple and tight and after the stillbirth she wasn't anymore he says

Her baby boy her last baby who'd been born blue and she'd cradled him and sobbed so deeply she thought she'd die and a part of her did die and the midwife tore the baby from her breast and Leopold raged at her and she crashed from the bed chasing the midwife and Leopold caught her and shook her HE'S DEAD REGINA and she had named him Joshua and he never lived outside of her body

A hand is over her mouth and she bucks wildly, she fights and fights and she is stronger now and she'll bite anything he puts in her mouth right off

And when she closes her teeth down it's the bitter taste of chocolate and the nightmare fades and she's sweating and shaking and Leopold is dead, she'd killed him, he's dead now, she killed him

She chews the chocolate and Granny swims into view, weathered face steady and soothing and familiar

* * *

A nightmare

A mouthful of chocolate

* * *

again

* * *

again

* * *

She blinks awake, stares at the fire still burning and grabs the edge of her blanket and she can see his silhouette in the doorway.

"Roland," she whispers and she looks and sees Robin and Granny sleeping, and smiles at the boy, extends a hand, "What are you doing up?"

He scampers over, falls to his knees, biting his lip and cradling her hand desperately.

"Are you alright?" he whispers, looks over his shoulder at his father, and then back to her.

"Of course, Roland," she assures him, lies to him.

And he knows, his eyes flick to something above her, seemingly empty air and a frown mars his face, he asks again and he tries to sound stern.

She studies him, "What do you see?" she asks instead of answering, as he keeps looking up at the empty air.

Roland shakes his head so hard his curls fly, "Nothing," he mumbles and he looks down, picks at her fingers and she raises his chin for him.

"Roland," but she doesn't know what to say, and she looks at Robin, sleeping in the chair with his long legs out in front of him and she knows that he loves his son more than anything, as she loves Henry, "can you do magic?" she asks, quieter than before.

He jolts, squirming and he looks close to tears and he looks at his father again and then to her, but there's something like relief in his eyes and his shoulders are much too small for all the pain held in his little face. "Oh, Roland," she whispers and draws him down and hugs him, hard, he doesn't cry, but sniffles and snuggles against her, worms his way under the blanket.

She rubs his back in circles, adjusts him so he's beside her instead of on her and shooshs softly until his sniffles fade away. "Your papa loves you very, very much, Roland," she tells him and can feel him nod under her chin.

"Tell me what you see?" she prods.

He snuggles into her side, "It's all dark around you," he mumbles, "bad stuff like a pointy cloud and you're hurt, that's around you too."

Aura reading, which makes her wonder why he likes her so much, seeing as he can see her whole fractured being.

She rubs her cheek against his hair, runs her fingers through his curls.

"I am hurt, Roland," she finally tells him, "but you don't have to worry about me."

"I'm your brave knight," he tells her, turns his head up to look at her, "and I can worry if I want."

A surprised chuckle huffs out of her, he looks so much like his father, little face hard with determination and so serious, "You are my brave knight," she agrees, places his head back down on her shoulder.

"Regina," he asks after a while, and Regina had thought him almost asleep, and she's almost there herself.

"Mmmm," she hums.

"I can do other things too," and a cloud of blue lilac is around them, it smells like summer and sunshine and the smoke wafts down and smooths straight into her bones and it knits her ribs and her bruises fade and her headache disappears and every sore and painful thing in her body is gone.

A deep sigh and exhaustion mixed with bliss has her eyes closing in seconds, "Thank you," she tells him and he's grinning, proud and looking like she's just given him the world.

And she falls asleep thinking she'll have to tell Robin that his son is the most powerful Sorcerer she's ever seen.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	11. Chapter 11

Regina wakes to the strong smell of bacon, and when she opens one blinking eye she sees a pair of worn brown boots before her. She turns her head, opens both eyes and squints up into sunlight, and there's Granny, natural frown firmly in place, her lined face gruff as she looks down at Regina from her full standing height, "Up and at um, girl," Granny says, nudging Regina's blanket clad side with the toe of her boot.

Regina swats at Granny's leg but the older woman is already stepping away. Regina sits up, expects pain and when it doesn't arrive has a disorienting moment, and then it all rushes back and she looks around for Roland, hand coming down to where he'd been by her side and convulsingly gripping the blanket.

"The boy went off with his father, a little over an hour ago," Granny calls from the table, and when Regina looks she can see others in the huge kitchen, cooking, cleaning, and not being at all sly in looking at her.

Mortification comes swiftly, Regina scampers up from her nest of blankets and is heading towards the doors when Granny's hand blocks her way, but does not touch her. If Regina ever had doubt of Granny's able bodiedness, they surely would now be put to rest, the old woman is fast.

"Breakfast," Granny says, and she isn't playing around, glaring from above those glasses.

Shaking her head, Regina tries to sidestep her, "No, thank you," she's mumbling but then Granny _is_ touching her, a hand on her shoulder, but for just a moment there is the ghostly feeling of claws, a giant paw, weighted and heavy against Regina's shoulder and the presence and breath of a very unhappy wolf behind her. And then it's gone, and Granny turns her around.

"You're eating breakfast," she says and doesn't wait for a reply as she guides Regina to the table and all but shoves her down at the bench.

Regina glares at her, and doesn't stop even when her stomach chooses that moment to rumble.

Granny smirks though, a thoroughly unpleasant thing.

Regina rolls her eyes as she looks down, let's hair fall in front of her face, and when she looks at the eggs, bacon, and toast she sighs.

"You're eating all of it," Granny announces as she sits down on the bench beside Regina, nowhere near enough to touch, but close enough.

"Am I?" People telling Regina what to do, ordering her, is number one on the list of things that set her off, and a fight is building in her, in spite of the fact that she would have eaten all of it anyway.

Granny lets out a sigh, but Regina doesn't move the curtain of hair that blocks the old woman from her sight, there's a beat of silence and then Granny is opening Regina's hand on the table top, placing a fork there and then closing the fingers around it. "I'd like to see you eat it all, Regina," Granny says.

Regina twirls the fork, tucks her hair behind her ear and looks, distrust in her face, at Granny, and the old woman looks sad and Regina remembers, vaguely, Granny's face between the nightmares. Granny had seen her when she was most weak, and was now being kind. Regina can't abide pity.

But her stomach rumbles once more and she shakes it all away, purses her lips and starts to eat, ignoring the others in the kitchen, ignoring the old woman who looks and looks like she's seeing something she's never seen.

And it's later; most of her food is gone, when Granny speaks, "How old were you?"

Regina has a bite of food on its way to her mouth and it stays there, hovering over her plate, "What?" but she knows what.

"How old were you when you married King Leopold?"

"What does it matter?" Regina says and drops her fork to her plate, turns and glares at the old woman and the woman looks sad.

Regina hates pity.

"It matters," Granny growls.

They stare at each other, glare at each other.

Regina looks away, picks up her fork, "Sixteen," she says and shoves a bite of egg in her mouth.

"A child," Granny says, and her hand curls into a fist on the tabletop.

"I was a woman grown," Regina insists, and she had been, to say she was a child was to make her a victim and she wasn't that, couldn't be that, "already flowered."

Granny opens her mouth and Regina has no idea what she'll say but doesn't want to hear it, she shoves the last bite of toast in her mouth and shoots up from her seat.

"Thank you for breakfast," she says and then is gone, out the kitchen, through hallways and she does not cry.

* * *

The sweet, clear sound of a child's laugh rings through the air, and Regina breathes it in in relief.

Regina walks towards the veranda that looks onto what was once the flower garden, overrun now into a field of unkempt long grass and wild flowers.

And there is Roland, sunshine shining on him, smiling as he rides his father's shoulders, giggles only growing when Robin neighs.

"Faster! They're gonna get us!" Roland cries, one hand wrapped around a willowy stick, the other wrapped around Robin's head and Robin laughs, pelting through the swaying grass.

Regina can see Friar Tuck chasing after them, moving far too slow to actually be trying to catch the father and son, an exaggerated expression of rage contorts the large man's face and he takes a huge breath and bellows, "There's no escape from me!"

Regina feels a smile tug at her lips as she rests her hands softly on the veranda railing, fingers curling against the sun warmed stone, the three quarter sleeves of her dress bare her arms. The long gashes that had been there, scars she thought she'd have forever, they and the stitches that held them closed are gone. Healed away.

She'd gone looking for them, after washing the caked mud, sweat, and tears from her person, washing the red mud from her hair by far the longest task, she'd washed it and brushed it and wears the dark weight of it down about her shoulders, she couldn't muster the will today to twist it into anything elaborate. She is too tired today to do anything but the bare minimum. She'd be sleeping in her bed if she hadn't needed to see them both, the father and son, she has no real sense of what she plans to do or say, if she plans to do or say anything really, Roland's secret is his own and to spill it…Regina won't. But the need to see them both is very real.

A gust of wind rustles the grass, flings her hair in all directions and she raises a hand to try and tame it, her eyes never leaving the duo pelting closer and closer, Roland looks away from his pursuer and catches her eye, bounces on his father's shoulder and waves with both hands, the end of the stick fwicking dangerously close to his eye.

"Regina!" he screams, as loud as his little lungs can manage.

Her smile grows and she raises both arms right back.

And Robin is looking at her too, smiling eyes suddenly turning mischievous, "Ser Roland!" he says, "We need-"

"Horsies don't talk," Roland says, all the affront a four year old can muster trapped in those three words.

Robin grins, jogs to the veranda, and Roland's head is bobbing just above the veranda's railing, the boy could grab hold of it if he were a foot closer, "A Queen's token," Robin says, pantomime panting as if he's run miles and miles, and Friar Tuck has slowed considerably behind them, growling and snarling in such a theatrical way that Regina almost laughs, "for luck, my boy, ask the Queen for a token."

Roland forgets his insistence that horsies don't talk, gasps and nods, big eyes pointed at Regina as Robin bounces the boy on his shoulders, "Regina, could I borrow a token please?"

And Regina laughs, it titters out of her, "Roland, I'm sorry, I have no token," the little boys face creases in deep worry, and turns to regard the man approaching from behind, "But," Regina continues, and the boy looks at her again, smirking and he looks so much like his father.

Regina leans over the railing, putting all her weight against it, extends her arms towards the child's face, cups the back of his head, she regards him seriously, as if this is no game, and he tries to bite back his grin, "for the bravest knight in the realm, I have something with the luck of a thousand tokens."

"What? What is it?" and the boy is practically vibrating he is so excited.

Regina leans forward, places her lips against his forehead softly, and her eyes close for a moment with the smell of wild flowers in her nose and the feel of sunshine on her skin, and sweet Roland had healed her, all her pain gone away and she is more grateful then a mere thank you can express, but she is saddened too, the pain had been her burden, what is life without it?

When she pulls away Roland has his eyes closed too, a soft, content expression on his cherubic face, he blinks slowly as if he's waking from a nap and a smile grows on his face.

"A Queens kiss is lucky?" Roland asks, than his faces scrunches up, "Did you have to kiss all your knights, Regina?"

Regina laughs, decides that the fact she did kiss a fair amount of knights is not something the child needs to know, and the whispered thought that neither does his father goes ignored, "No dear, you're the only one," she tells him.

A very nearby growl has Roland spinning away from her and she retracts her hands back to the railing.

Roland brandishes the stick at Friar Tuck, "I got a kiss from the Queen!" Roland says, chest puffed out, "and you're nothing but a mean smelly ogre and she'd never kiss you!"

And at that Robin charges forward with a mighty neigh, Roland thwacking the stick at Friar Tuck who bats it away while laughing, thoroughly ruining his ogre impression.

Regina shakes her head and traverses over to the steps, glides down them and wades through the grass, stopping feet away from where Friar Tuck now rolls on the ground, reciting quite the deathbed speech.

Roland pumps his hands in the air, squirming so much that Robin swings him off his shoulders, and the boy is skipping over to her, "Did you see?" he asks.

_"Did you see?" Henry asks, and he is so proud and yes of course she'd seen_

Regina blinks, crosses her arms, "Yes, dear, you defeated that mighty foe admirably."

Roland smiles, and nods as if he knows all those words and thwacks at some long grass.

"Your Majesty," and Regina takes a breath before turning her gaze to Robin, arms crossing tighter across her chest, and he is tall and he is handsome, "we wished to see you safety awake, but-"

"No need," she says, a hand raised and she shakes her head.

His head tilts.

"I wanted to thank you," Regina says, and smiles down to Roland, "both of you," and she looks up through her lashes at Robin, "you carried me two miles, thank you."

He shrugs, like it is nothing, like it is anything anyone would do but Regina knows it isn't, that she is the Evil Queen and anyone else would have let her faint in Weeping and drown and good riddance, but he had carried her, and 'You touch her again I'll break your fingers.'

"Well, it's not as if you're heavy," he says, and laughs.

Regina's brow crumples, narrowing her eyes, hums.

"Because you aren't, heavy I mean," he says as he observes her.

"So if I weighed a little more you'd have dropped me?" she says, is teasing, and he fidgets.

Roland gasps, "Papa!"

"No," Robin cries, smiling down at Roland and then shaking his head at Regina and his gaze turns serious, he takes a step forward, "no, I would carry you anywhere."

And her breath catches for a moment, the way he's looking at her, the way he stands so close, it all goes rushing to her head.

Roland tugs on her skirt, and when she looks down at him he has his hands upraised, grabby hands that say 'up, up' in any realm, it's instinct, the way she sweeps down, picks him up and places him on her hip and it's only after he's settled that she realizes what she's done.

She turns to Robin, "I'm sorry," she starts to say, the little boy has his arms wrapped around her neck but she's bending right back down to put him on his feet when Robin grabs her shoulder, gentle grip against her and he shakes his head.

"You make quite the pair," he says and Regina tightens her shoulders, his hand falls away.

"Are you even listening?!" Friar Tuck cries from the ground, glaring at them, he's been going through his death throes the entire time, "I am dying here!"

"Regina, will you eat with us?" Roland asks, giggling as he turns away from Friar Tuck and he's kicking his little legs and he's almost too big for Regina to carry at all.

Her mouth opens and nothing comes out.

She eats alone.

Always.

"You're more than welcome," Robin says, and he's smiling at her.

"I," and she doesn't want to eat alone, "if I'm welcome," she answers, and hates that her trepidation is audible.

Friar Tuck is sitting up in the grass, and he's not smiling, or frowning, only looking between her and Robin and Robin tilts his head again, but Regina cannot see his face but Friar Tuck climbs up, dusts off his pants and ushers them all back across the flower garden, to the dining chamber. "Vanquishing that knight has made me hungry!" he booms.

"Nuhuh!" Roland cries immediately, and Regina shuffles him up, secures him better on her hip, the boy spins his face to her, "I won," he says.

And Regina nods, "Yes, dear, most certainly."

"See," Roland says, and pokes at Friar Tuck, "most certaintwly," he echoes and has a face that says 'so there' and Regina laughs, right from her belly, she gives Roland a kiss on his cheek.

* * *

She's clutching Roland like a security blanket when they approach the table. This is a mistake, she isn't welcome.

The men look up, look at Roland in her arms, and then at Robin and at his smile and nod they become a little less wary looking, but it doesn't leave their eyes completely.

Nerves run up and down Regina's spine as she sets Roland down, the boy drags her by the hand to empty seats, tucks into her side the moment they sit.

The table is quiet and she doesn't look up until she feels Robin take a seat on her other side.

He smiles at her and slowly conversations start, but no one talks to her except Roland and Robin.

* * *

"I don't like um," the little boy says and he's pouting.

Robin sighs, looks around Regina, "You have to eat them," and it sounds like an argument they've had many times before.

"Why don't you like them?" Regina asks.

"They're yucky!" he exclaims, gestures with tiny hands at the carrots.

Regina picks one off his plate, pops it in her mouth, "Bunnies like them," she says, chewing, shrugging.

"I am not a bunny!" Roland huffs.

She laughs, leans down to him and her hair falls across his shoulders, "Do you want to know a secret?"

And he nods, biting his lips, Regina looks around, ignores the men listening across the table.

"Bunnies are so fast because they eat carrots, it's why they can jump so high too," she finishes the morsel in her mouth, reaches for another but he blocks her fork.

"Does it only work for bunnies?" he says, and he's whispering.

She widens her eyes, "Well your Papa is fast isn't he?" the little boy nods, looks around her at his father and then leans back, "It's must be because he eats carrots!" she reveals.

And Roland gasps, "Papa?" he asks and is in her lap in a second, clamoring at her and making silverware rattle on the table, and every single person is looking at her, Roland in her lap, a handful of her hair in each of his fists as he cries to his father, "Why didn't you say carrots made you fast?"

Robin looks from his son to Regina and she smiles weakly.

He leans forward, to whisper to Roland but his face is so close to hers and she's looking at his lips as he says, "I'm sorry, my boy, I couldn't let slip the secret."

"Next time there's a secret you gotta tell me," Roland says and narrows his eyes at his father before shuffling back to his own seat and shoveling carrots in his mouth with a tiny grimace, expression hard and unyielding.

* * *

Lunch has left her warm and as happy as she's able to be.

Relaxed now in one of the numerous libraries, alone with the moth eaten books, so many of their inks faded, lost to time, she's surrounded by the smell of the old books, she is not in pain. The tide has rushed out, grief's push and pull leaving her wading content in the shallows. For today.

But then the creaking of the old rusted hinges on the door is heard and Regina turns and frowns.

"Snow," Regina says, and is almost exasperated enough to puff herself into the highest tower in the castle, just to escape.

"Hi, Regina," Snow says, tentative smile on her face and she walks closer.

Regina keeps the open book in her hands, does not turn fully from the shelves, she narrows her gaze at Snow, "What do you want?" she asks, the girl had always held no interest in _this_ library, filled with books on history and medicine and a fair few hidden magic tomes, Snow had always sequestered herself away with the romance and adventure to be found in the east wing library.

"I wanted to see you," Snow says, picks a book from the shelf at random, but does not open it; she hugs it against her chest, like a shield.

"Why?" Regina stretches out.

Snow shrugs, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Regina says and turns away.

"Regina," Snow sighs, and she sounds disappointed and it enrages Regina, sighing sighing, always sighing, disappointed in Regina, the stupid girl was just like her father, always sighing.

Regina slams the book to the floor, rounds on Snow, "Do you mean us to be friends? Snow? What do you want from me? You have no need to be here, you inflict your presence when it is not needed, I am your ally because of my _child_, my son," and Snow flinches at that, the acid tone, because Snow had never been Regina's child, "I _hate_ you," Regina says, she hates Snow White, bitterly and truly, Mary Margaret was another woman in another world, but this is Snow, standing in her father's castle, the hatred grew in this castle once, and it's seeping back, Regina's voice had been a hiss, and her hands gesture in front of her like she is throttling something.

Snow swallows, shakes her head and desperation is in her eyes, twisting up her face, "You didn't always," she says, and she's holding back tears.

It's like a slap in the face and Regina steps back, because, no, she hadn't always. But the hatred grew.

Regina leans a hand against the shelves, her shoulder thudding against the heavy books, "Leave," she growls.

Snow does, whirling away, even strides towards the doors but in the hall Regina can hear the pitter patter of her running.

And the contentment is gone.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	12. Chapter 12

Little John and Friar Tuck are both panting as they enter the kitchen, they slow their steps, cast desperate eyes at Robin and Robin is out of his seat in a second, jogging to meet them with a worried gaze over his shoulder at the sleeping woman and the boy playing quietly next to her.

"What's happened?" he asks, hands reaching for John, who seems the most affected, his face bright red in anger and he throws a heated gaze to Tuck.

"It's Tom," Tuck answers, and he's cringing, "his mind is addled by drink, he's a good man, it's the drink that does i-"

Robin cuts him off, gaze hard, "Where?"

Roland tugs on the leg of Robin's trousers, looks up in confusion, and Robin picks him up, hardly spares him a glance, "I asked where, Tuck!"

And the Friar cringes again, and John pulls on Robin's arm and they've taken two steps before Robin remembers Regina, he half turns, eyes on her, on the even fall and rise of her chest, the hair spread around her face, black like night, looking as soft as silk, eyelashes dark against her smooth cheek.

"I've got her," Granny says from the rocking chair, and Robin looks at her, grateful, and leaves.

It's nearly five minutes later when Robin sees Tom, a sword in hand, smacking the pommel against a door, screaming obscenities, threats, he's got vomit on his shirt, and in his hair, and it's only when Roland shies away with a whimper that Robin remembers he's even there, he'd been so blinded by urgency and growing anger. Robin passes Roland to Friar Tuck, and they back away together, Friar Tuck shaking his head, sad eyes on Tom.

Robin waits for the pair to round the bend, and then he surges forward.

"You whore!" Tom is screaming, "You nasty whore, I'll kill you, I'll fu-"

Robin grabs his shoulder, turns him and slams a fist into his gut, the sword clatters out of Tom's hand as he falls to his knees.

Tom looks up at him, "Robin?" he groans and he smells like piss, and the door behind Robin creaks open, half a face looking out, the scared face of a young woman, there are tear tracks down her face.

Tom sees the open door and stumbles to his feet, rage twisting his features as he pushes Robin out of the way and puts all his weight against the door. It bursts open, and a shrill scream comes from the girl. Tom steps after her as she scuttles back and Robin and John grab him, drag him back and he's raging and screaming and finally John clocks him straight in the face.

"What do you think you're doing," John growls, and Tom has a cupped hand under his chin, trying and failing to catch the blood leaking from his nose.

Tom stumbles to the right, gestures at the door that has been slammed closed; the girls sobbing can be heard through it. "Nasty bitch, teasing me all night," he stumbles to the left, "smiling, giggling like, and," and then it's a drunken ramble and Robin turns his head away in disgust.

Robin grabs the lapels of Tom's jacket, shakes him, and then throws him away, "Clean yourself up," he orders, stoops and picks up the sword, "Leave the girl alone," he growls.

"Can't order me!" Tom yells.

Robin smacks the flat of the blade against Tom's leg and the man crumples, Robin shoots a hand forward, nose crinkled at the smell, he grabs a handful of Tom's hair, pulls it back and snarls in his face. "If you weren't Tuck's brother, you'd be a beaten and bloody mess on the floor," Tom tries to shrink back, and Robin is so angry spit flies out with his words, "leave the girl alone," and he throws Tom away.

Tom heaves himself up, grumbling unheard threats, looks back glaring, but leaves.

John and Robin share a glance, with a shake of his head and a sigh Robin passes John the blade, and goes after Friar Tuck and Roland.

"Miranda," John is saying, gently knocking on the door as Robin walks away, rubbing both hands over his face.

* * *

"You have to do something about him," Robin says.

"It's the drink," Tom starts and stops when Robin raises a hand.

"He could have killed that girl," Robin reminds him.

Embarrassment colors Tuck's cheeks, and his head dips in shame, "He wouldn't do that," he says with a shake of his head, and perhaps he wouldn't have killed her, but there are other things he would have done, and bile rises in Robin's throat at the thought.

Robin lets out a deep breath, studies the other man with a frown, "I'll not have him around my boy," he says finally, and means it, this violence has gone unchecked for too long, and rape is icing on an already impressively delinquent cake.

"I understand," Tuck says, nods and looks up to the sky as if praying to his god for strength.

"Tuck," and Roland walks between them, is holding a frog in his hands, smile wide and Tuck looks down at him and smiles, but it is sad.

* * *

"Roland," Friar Tuck says much later, and he's letting his hand graze over the long grass.

"Yeah?" Roland says back, and when he looks up Friar Tuck has his hands raised, tickling hands and Roland's eyes widen immediately and he runs to his father. "Papa! Papa!"

Roland is running as fast as his little legs can go, giggling madly as he runs away from Friar Tuck's wiggling fingers.

Robin smiles, sweeps the boy smoothly up and places him on his shoulders. Roland's hands fist in Robin's hair, hard enough to hurt and he loosens one hand from around his son's ankle to ease his fingers. "Easy now," he laughs, "And what is this?" he asks, looking at Tuck.

"I'm an ogre," he says, calmly, and then glances up at Roland, " And I'm gonna get him!" he cries, lunges and Robin leaps out of his reach.

"No, Papa, don't let him get me!" Roland's hands are once more in Robin's hair, pulling at it.

"What kind of steed would allow their rider to face such danger?" Robin proclaims, tickles at Roland's feet, starts to back away and Tuck growls low in his throat and does a strange dance with his eyebrows, it's the worst impression of an ogre Robin has seen, it looks more like Tuck is doing an impression of his brother, the lecherous drunk.

"You are a mighty knight," Robin reminds Roland, amused at the notion that his son, the son of a thief, an honorable one, but a thief nonetheless, would strive so hard for knighthood, Robin reaches out and tears a dead branch off a tree and starts running as he reaches over his head and hands the stick to Roland, whose giggling madly. Robin neighs, long and loud and Roland almost falls off his shoulders he's laughing so hard.

Robin let's Tuck get closer, then spurts forward in a burst of speed, he does it twice, Roland's laughing cries of, "Go horsie, Go! Faster!" a desperate plea and he kicks his heels into his father's chest.

And then the boy is bouncing on his shoulders, screaming at the top of his lungs, "Regina!" and his hand is gone from Robin's hair.

Robin turns his eyes up, almost trips on a clump of dirt and Regina is standing above them on a veranda, both arms raised, a smile that's all teeth stretching across her face and her long hair is playing madly in the wind, and she's standing straight, a spark to her eyes, and she looks healthy in a way she hasn't since he's known her. And it's astounding and it's miraculous, he feared for her life only yesterday, as she lay in his arms soaking wet and crumpled, unnaturally pale, listless, the sight of her brings a smile to his face and the thought that she used magic crosses his mind, and he's grateful.

An idea flashes through Robin's mind and he smirks, "Ser Roland," he cries, "We need-"

Roland cuts him off and Robin can well imagine the face he makes as he says "Horsies don't talk!"

"A Queens's token," Robin says, and bounces the boy on his shoulders and he huffs and he puffs, he looks up at Regina, the dark fabric of her dress swishing about her legs in the wind, "for luck, my boy, ask the Queen for a token."

"Regina, could I borrow a token please?" Roland begs, and Robin bounces him again.

Regina laughs, a tinkling, light sound, a beautiful sound, more girlish then Robin would have thought, "Roland, I'm sorry, I have no token, but," and Robin's smile falters as she leans over the railing, and she's hovering above him, talking to Roland, cupping the boy's face.

Robin's mouth opens, gaze on her breasts, almost spilling out of the low cut of her dress, soft and smooth, and he swallows, closes his mouth and as his gaze travels up to her stretched neck he imagines her back arched, neck straining as she screams his name, spread out under him, panting and writhing, his hands in her long dark hair, holding her hip, the feel of her around him, wet and tight and moaning and the thought is so sexual and so instant that he has to shake his head, slamming his eyes shut to block the sight of her.

"-kiss all your knights, Regina?" he hears Roland say.

And she laughs again, that girlish sound and Robin keeps his eyes shut, taking a deep breath.

"No, dear, you're the only one," she answers.

Friar Tuck is growling just a little way away and when Robin feels Roland turning on his shoulders he happily accepts the distraction. Robin opens his eyes as he spins around, and Roland points his stick in front of them, "I got a kiss from the Queen," he says "and you're nothing but a mean smelly ogre, and she'd never kiss you!"

Robin neighs and whisks the boy forward, his heart still beating madly and he can't get the picture completely out of his brain, the picture of her undone, even as Roland gets a little too involved in the game and hits Friar Tuck right along the top of his head. Friar Tuck lands on the ground at the blow, but doesn't look too hurt; he's pondering loudly why life is so unfair to ogre kind.

Roland is squirming so much that Robin reaches up and slides him down, watches as he scampers over to Regina, and she smiles at him, "Did you see?" Roland says, chest puffed out like he's a real champion.

Her arms cross and her smile gets strained but she nods, "Yes, dear," she says, "you defeated that mighty foe admirably."

And Roland somehow looks even more proud and he swipes at some grass with his stick, swishing sounds under his breath.

"Your Majesty," Robin says, takes a step towards her, and she's a head shorter than him, "we wished to see you safely awake, but-"

She shakes her head, hand raised to stop him and she has tiny hands, god-

"No need," she says, and smiles at him, closed lips, "I wanted to thank you," she smiles at Roland, "both of you," and it's almost shyly that she looks up at him, head still tilted down, "you carried me two miles, thank you."

Robin shakes his head with a small shrug, anyone would do the same. "Well," he starts, and knows whatever is coming out of his mouth will make him look like an idiot, but he can't seem to stop himself, "it's not as if you're heavy," and he cringes and laughs.

Her eyes narrow and she leans her head back, she hums, and he takes it as a question.

"Because you aren't," he clarifies, "heavy I mean."

"So if I weighed a little more you'd have dropped me?" she asks, and her eyebrows are raised and he can see she's teasing, and the idea of her teasing has his heart warming.

"Papa!" Roland gasps, his stick dropped to the ground.

"No," Robin reassures him, and when he looks at Regina she has a small smirk on her face, head tilted up to look at him, and he wants to wipe that smirk right of, "no," he tells her, steps towards her, "I'd carry you anywhere," and he only knows the truth of it after he's said it, her eyes widen and her breath stutters, her smirk melting away and Robin can't tear his eyes from hers, her big dark eyes, he could lose himself in her eyes.

But she turns away, looks down and Robin sees Roland tugging on her skirt, hands upraised with grabby palms, and it's instant, she bends down and grabs him, rises with him on her hip, planted there like he's always been there, and the boy looks content, his arms wrapped around her neck.

And just as fast she looks at Robin, fear and dread crawling up her face, and she flinches back like she expects to be yelled at, "I'm sorry," she says, bends back down and Roland is tightening his arms around her neck, throws a pleading look at his father.

Robin reaches out, cups her shoulder and she straightens, confused and wary as she looks up at him shaking his head. "You make quite the pair," he says, and it's the truest thing he's said all day, the beautiful woman and the beautiful child, sunlight in their curly dark hair.

She shies away from his hand and he lets it drop away.

"Are you even listening?" Tuck says, arms crossed, his back in the dirt, "I am dying here!"

Robin laughs, waves the man away with a grin.

"Regina, will you eat with us?"

Robin spins around, watches Regina's mouth open, eyes locked on the little boy on her hip, speechless, and there's trepidation in those eyes, a heavy dose of fear, but longing too, looking at the child in her grasp and Robin has no memory of her ever eating with anyone, she is always alone, walls impenetrable, chin held high.

"You're more than welcome," Robin tells her, smiles at her, trying to cajole.

She tightens her hold on the boy, "I," she turns to Robin, looks him up and down "if I'm welcome," she finishes and she attempts to smile, it falters before it's grown.

Robin looks to Tuck, and the other man is studying him, and Regina, looking at them like some ancient tome unearthed for the first time, and Robin doesn't quite glare, but it's hard look, and it's unmovable and Tuck has been Robin's friend for long years, but Regina is…

Robin doesn't know what Regina is yet, but she is something, something important and Tuck seems understand this, he stands, claps dust from himself and smiles and Robin is relieved, glad.

* * *

Roland is squirming in bed, kicking at his blanket, and Robin wonders what Regina would say to make the boy sleep, her trick with the carrots still bringing a smile to his face.

"My boy," Robin sighs, flops himself down across the bed, Roland's kicking legs trapped under his father's weight.

"Papa," Roland says, pushing at Robin till he rolls over.

"Go to sleep," Robin says, rubbing a hand across his face.

"Not tired," the boy pouts, but his eyes are drooping, but he's a stubborn child, which during the day thoroughly delights Robin, but at three hours past Roland's bed time, not quite as much.

"I think you are actually," Robin says, shuffles up the bed and hugs Roland, "come on now," and he lies with Roland against his side, "it's easy, close your eyes."

Roland sighs, an exasperated sound, as if dealing with someone particularly obtuse.

Robin jostles him, and they both bounce on the bed, "Are you doing it?" Robin asks, his whole face scrunched up to keep his eyes closed, "Won't work with your eyes open."

"Papa," the boy says, and it's a different tone, it's hesitant.

"What is it?" Robin asks, opens his eyes and looks down at the boy; Roland is playing with a loose thread on his nightshirt.

"What did Mama look like?" the boy asks and it's quiet and, for some reason, he's nervous.

Robin smiles, it was a long time ago Roland had last asked, but Robin has the same answer, "Your Mama was beautiful, Roland. She had dark hair," Robin rubs the boys back softly, tucks his chin against his curls, "just like you," he pokes Roland in the stomach, "and you have her eyes, she had a smile like sunshine, Roland, it brightened whole rooms."

Roland shuffles, tucks his head harder against Robin, and Robin can tell he's not saying something, can't even see his sons face, but knows something is weighing him down, "What is it?" he asks, frowning.

Roland takes a breath, one shoulder stays raised in a shrug, "Does Regina look like Mama?" he asks.

And Robin's face falls, he blinks.

He's speechless for a moment, before he stumbles through something that resembles coherency, "Why do you ask?"

Roland shrugs again, fidgets, "Regina has hair like mine, it's dark and it's curly and Regina has the prettiest smile, even the small ones." Roland looks up, his chin against Robin's chest and is looking introspective about it all, "Regina's beautiful," he finishes, mumbling, "you said Mama was beautiful."

Thoughts are racing through Robin's head, but he responds, "Yes, your Mama was beautiful," and she was, so beautiful that Robin could spend hours looking at her face. Everything about her had been beautiful, her kind eyes, soft eyes, her gentle hands, her lips, upturned in a smile always, she was even beautiful when angry, nose curled up in a snarl, gesticulating wildly and usually throwing things at him.

She'd even looked beautiful as she lay dying.

"So does she?" Roland asks, tucks his head back down with a yawn.

"Yes, Roland, she does a bit." And she does, Regina has long, luscious dark hair, as Marian had, Roland used to squeeze long tendrils of it in his baby fist, Regina has large dark, expressive eyes, Robin used to joke that he could fall straight into Marian's eyes, even the full lips that Robin had so loved in Marian, the same feature is there on Regina's lovely face.

But Marian had been a happy soul, easy in her friendship and her love, she'd escaped her hardships without bitterness, had laughed easily and long.

Regina, she was an entirely different sort of soul. Sad and angry, fighting tooth and nail for something better, the air around her felt tortured, her pain her companion even when she smiled.

But the comparison sits heavily in Robin's gut, even as Roland drifts away to sleep, a boneless and heavy mass on Robin's chest.

* * *

Robin tries to tell himself that this is in no way untoward or lecherous, and can't convince himself.

He walks quietly down the hall to the Queen's chambers, his boots thrown on hastily, he is still in his loose and comfortable sleepwear, he doesn't knock as he slides through the door that he opens without a sound.

He just needs to see her, that's all.

He wants to see her, but to speak to her is something he's not ready for. Roland's voice is spinning through his mind, _'Does Regina look like Mama?_' and Robin's thoughts are confusing and jumbled and Regina is captivating and stubborn and Marian is long dead, bloodied and gone, Roland had not even yet reached his first birthday when she'd died.

Robin stops when he sees the bed empty, he looks around fervently, something tight gripping his chest until he exhales when he sees her, curled against the balcony railing.

He walks to her, frowns when he sees one arm dangling through the rails, her face is pressed against them, she's asleep, and concern grows, marks his brow as he kneels beside her, pushes hair over her shoulder.

"Regina?" he whispers with a shake of his head, and looking at her now he could answer Roland once and for all, Regina looks like Regina, and no one else.

Robin glances back to the bed, bites his lip and decides to take the chance, he gathers her up in his arms and stands, waits a beat to see if she'll wake and when all she does is turn her head into his chest he breathes in. He steps carefully over to the bed, lays her down over the covers, when he pulls back her eyes are half open, sleep filled and she throws him a smile, and it lights up her whole face, she mumbles his name, hand wrapping around his wrist on the bedspread.

And then her eyes blink closed, and her face relaxes again with a deep exhale and she's still and peaceful on the bed.

He leans over her, studies her face, her slightly parted lips and he kisses her forehead softly, cradling her neck as he does so as she mumbles in her sleep.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	13. Chapter 13

Two mirrors had hung in the library, a relic of the time when a man was trapped within them and would flicker all about the castle, sometimes visible, mostly not, to spy on the Queen he served. Regina broke them both in a fit of useless rage after Snow had left the library, her emotions turbulent inside her, a heavy book thrown at one, and magic flung at the other, she leaves the shards of reflective glass on the stone floor, and retreats to her chambers.

Memories of Snow are wafting through Regina's mind, every inch of this castle tied to the insufferable brat, this castle housed the Evil Queen, but before that it housed a nursemaid in silk and diamonds, Snow been a beautiful child, Regina remembers, and the girl had known it, had known she was her fathers most prized.

The girl was always tripping, Regina remembers as she slams her chamber doors shut, always tripping all the time, on the hem of her dresses, on her own feet, and whenever a new injury was catalogued to the King it was somehow Regina's fault, for not watching the girl well enough, and the girl had cried every time, no matter how small or insignificant the wound.

The girl was always eating too, snatching at cakes and pies, anything with sugar gone as soon as her eyes lay on it, and she had terrible stomach aches, every time she indulged, and Regina would have to sooth them, would have to rub the girls back, and Snow would say '_sing_?' and there was no choice and Regina sang whatever lullaby had piqued the girls fancy. _'You have such a beautiful voice_,' the girl would sigh and smile, smile lovingly up at her step-mother and did she really never know the hatred that grew behind those songs?

Snow wanted Regina's companionship daily, until Snow turned sixteen, when she turned aloof and perhaps she'd begun to understand her step-mother's love was not real, or perhaps she'd begun to feel awkward calling a woman who looked young enough to be her sister _'mother'_, and then she was too old anyway for a mother, any mother, and Regina had still not produced a male heir and so Snow was tutored in how to rule the kingdom by a swath of tutors in dowdy dark clothes and ridiculous hats.

A thousand days run together for Regina as she stands, shaking and sad and so incredibly angry, Snow growing from a child to a woman in the span of a second and Regina stands in the center of her chambers, looks blankly around herself, head tilted and she's shaking her head. She'd buried all this, under evil and madness and long dull years in Storybrooke, and it's inconvenient that all her _issues_ regarding her marriage are popping up now, inconvenient too little a word, she'd like to push it all back down, but it won't go. It was so much easier in Storybrooke with Henry, Henry kept her mind off bad things that happened long ago, the minutia of everyday life had cradled her, Storybrooke, a prison and a comfort, where Snow was Mary Margret and Regina the Mayor, Regina could let it slip more easily from her mind there, but here, here there is no escape, no escape and no Henry.

Regina strides over to her closet, rummages through it, throwing clothes worth a fortune, till she finds a large and heavy jewelry box, covered in dust in the farthest corner.

She carries the box to the balcony, sets it down beside her when she sits on the stone, there's a sharp wind climbing up the tower, it whips at her, throws stinging tendrils of her hair against her face, stinging against her cheeks. Regina opens the box, and looks at ten years worth of baubles and shiny trinkets. Every birthday since her sixteenth year till Leopold's murder, every anniversary of the day she'd stood in the sept and had her virtue sold, was celebrated with an expensive gift of gold and stones.

A hand hovers over the gold and silver and jewels, Regina lets out a long and deep breath. Leopold always smiled and helped her put the necklaces, tight like a collar against her throat, suffocating her, around her neck, or the earrings, too big and heavy and they hurt her ears, he'd pin them in, and Snow always sighed and was jealous and said how lucky Regina was.

Lucky.

Regina picks a pair of earrings from the box, rubies as big as her nose and they are gaudy and too large and this had been her twenty first birthday, pregnant with her last baby, her stomach curving gently outward and Snow giggled and called her fat, she'd be leaving the next day, an unintentional birthday present that only fueled Regina's delight further. A stirring of happiness had been in Regina's belly that night, because she'd never carried a baby so long, and Leopold told her how glad he was and he made plans to surprise Snow when the baby was born, when Snow returned from her latest adventure to the coast with the daughter of some wealthy Lord, he planned to show her the nursery and the baby brother all in one go and Regina had dreamed of a future that night and it had not been a nightmare.

But the baby did not live.

Regina closes her fingers around the stones, breathes deep and her eyes drift shut and she's focusing her magic on her hands and they glow, bright shining purple shooting between her fingers and when she opens them two song birds are sitting in her palms.

They cock their little heads, beady bright eyes at her and they titter out a song, flex their shining ruby wings and take flight, golden legs curled under them.

Regina picks up a necklace, and repeats it all the same, and when she opens her hands it is a shining silver songbird with turquoise tipped feathers and he echoes his brother's melancholy song before he flies away.

She goes on and on until the jewelry box is empty and a good number of new species of bird has entered the world, and she's used more magic then she should have, but a good sleep and a fine meal will have her almost fine, and she welcomes the ache anyway, the pain, and she can't even find the strength to rise, she slumps forward and stares out at the landscape beyond her balcony, the forest that stretches out and out, and she falls asleep to the far off tune of the song birds.

Imagining Henry off living a life without worries, a life of freedom and boundless choice, and she knows Emma is a good mother, that Henry is happy, and it is enough, the happiness of her only living child, it is enough.

* * *

She wakes to the weight of a tiny body settling against her side. She's in her bed and she must have woken and walked there in the night, she chuckles and wraps her arm around him, "Roland, do you know what knocking is?"

And the little boy smiles up at her, dimples deep in his cheeks, "You were sleeping, I didn't wanna wake you up," he tells her.

"How did you know?" she asks, her eyes shutting of their own accord and she burrows deeper into the bedding, squeezing the boy before relaxing her grip and he giggles.

"I could see you through the door," he tells her and he squeezes her as tightly as he can before releasing and she laughs. "It's breakfast," he tells her and hops up to his feet on the bed covers, hands on his waist as he looks down at her, "You're hungry, come on."

"How do you know I'm hungry?" and she sits up, pulls him down to her lap and scuttles them both to the edge of the bed.

"Hungry is blue around your tummy, and you're all blue on your tummy, so you're hungry," he tells her and she's astounded he's so free with his magic in her presence.

"Roland," she says, reaches out to him when he jumps down from the edge of the bed, and he turns to her with a smile on his face and trusting eyes and she lets her hand drop, he'll tell his father when he's ready, "I am hungry," she tells him, and allows him to grab her hands, dragging her with all his body weight to her closet.

And when they enter the dining chamber Robin has saved them seats next to him and once again the father and son have her sit between them and she can feel the heat of Robin right next to her, their arms touching every now and then and the men look at her and when she nods they nod in return and relief unclenches the tendrils of unease in her belly and she listens with half an ear as Roland tells her of his plans for the day, which seem to include learning to read, learning to joust, and saving the kingdom, not necessarily in that order and she smiles at him, smooths his hair with her mouth full of food.

* * *

"Regina," Granny greets, like she knew she'd come, the old women kicks a chair in invitation, looking from above her glasses, her hands steadily peeling the potato in her grasp.

Regina sits and grabs a knife and a potato and sets to work, doesn't look at Granny and Granny finally looks away and Granny starts talking, talking and talking, about any old thing that enters her mind.

And the two of them work, and Regina wonders if the old bag is now her friend.

* * *

Dinner finds Roland separated from her, Robin in the middle of their trio and it upsets the order Regina had imagined she'd gained, her side feels empty without him and she finds herself looking around Robin all the time at the little boy and he seems just as determined to speak to her in return, but Robin chomps down on his steak and looks skyward like he doesn't notice and Regina wonders if this is some sort of test and it has her scowling.

Until she huffs and turns to her own plate, poking listlessly, completely uninterested.

Where Roland _should_ be on the bench a young man, barely a man, sits, he'd introduced himself as Arthur, had smiled at her after a look to Robin and he's a chatty boy, loud and boisterous and he seems to be the center of attention, which means Regina next to him is being studied and looked at more than she's comfortable with and she starts squirming in her seat, thinking perhaps she should leave.

And then Arthur makes a lewd joke, involving a dwarf, mommy issues, and a fairies wand. Regina has just taken a drink from her glass and it almost snorts out her nose all across the table as a laugh tries to escape, she slaps a hand over her mouth and chokes the liquid back down, swallowing her laughter, wide eyes over her hand as faces turn up and down the table to look at her, and they are smiling at her, and she's blushing and dread wells up in her gut as Arthur's grin turns gleeful as he turns to fully face her.

His dark eyes practically twinkle, "The stoic façade slips! But hear this one, a young handmaiden and-" Arthur crows out the next vulgar, but achingly hilarious tale. She slides away from him, sliding until her side hits Robin.

And for the rest of the meal Arthur makes it his mission to tell her every lewd and inappropriate joke he's ever heard, and his smile gets wider the hotter Regina's blush grows. For a time she attempts to ignore him, but every other joke has her snorting and choking around her food and her drink. Her glares do nothing to deter him.

"Arthur," Robin warns, once, but he's smiling just as much as Arthur and when Regina glares at him he laughs.

Robin's hand rises and settles on the small of her back and it's warm and his fingers flex and Regina leans back into his touch, leans against his side.

* * *

In the middle of the night she shoots awake, eyes wide, her magic prodding at her urgently, she flings herself from the bed, racing to the balcony and her head twitches like a dog trying to track a sound, her magic stretched thin as she searches for the thing that was _wrong_, the thing that woke her. Her chambers are in the third tallest tower, and so it is easy for her to spot the five flying monkeys headed fast over the forest, only seconds and then they are already dive bombing a courtyard alive with fire light and the tiny forms of people milling around. The monkey's make no noise. Regina can see their pointed dirty teeth even from so far away, the animals look gleeful as they near their kills and it comes without thought, a shield, protection, the most powerful protection this castle has to offer.

Her hands fly up and a whoosh of air, bright and blinding, crashes to the floor from her body and it's like lace racing through the stone, the farther it gets from her body the dimmer the light grows but the power extends in a matter of seconds to all corners of the castle and still high up in the air the monkey's fly face first into what is as good as solid stone, two crash into it, die instantly with broken necks, but the last three beat their powerful wings and manage to pull up. Still they are silent as one lands on the shield, runs his claws over it and turns to the other two and shakes his grotesque head. Regina falls to her knees, then forward onto her palms. The monkeys leave the dead, and fly off back into the night as Regina groans and fights nausea.

The spell took more out of her then she'd expected. For the second night in a row she finds herself laying on the floor of the balcony and letting sleep overtake her.

Her eyes blink closed, her cheek is against the cold stone and she's dead to the world, doesn't even vaguely stir until sunlight hits her face hours and hours later and the bodies of the two monkeys remain, and so does the shield.

* * *

**authors note, so in regards to the monkeys I'm actually of the mind that Zelena doesn't have all that many in the enchanted forest, but for the purpose of this story, drama you know and all that, she does have some to spare so yea.**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	14. Chapter 14

"You're upset with me?" Regina says incredulously, speaking slowly as she tries to understand the disorienting world around her. She feels like the only sane person in the whole room, "You're upset with me me for stopping the attack on the castle?" and the confusion she feels, along with the stinging sense of betrayal, must be showing on her face but this response to her shield has blindsided her completely. Gratitude is what her heart of hearts had thought she'd receive. Not this. She eyes everyone around the council chamber, Granny is at least looking at her like she's done something right, and she had done, that shield had felled two monkey's and saved the people in the courtyard who hadn't even known to be afraid.

"Not upset, Regina," David says, but he sounds peeved even as he saying it and he's glaring, his hands are flat on the tabletop as he leans forward, "we just don't understand why you didn't get help instead."

"It was the middle of the night," she repeats, because that had been the first thing she'd said nearly an hour ago, the middle of the night and the monkey's were diving, she opens her hands as if this will help him understand, hands held in front of her, trying to make him see, "the attack was underway."

There's tension in the room that she doesn't understand. She had saved people and no one has-

Regina takes a breath, let's it out. They haven't even thanked her.

"We need you to take the spell off," Snow says, she's fidgeting, looking like she wants to round the table and stand by Regina's side, but doesn't have the courage to do it.

"What?" Regina splutters, her chin tilts and her eyes narrow and nothing makes any kind of sense. "You want me to dismantle the shield?" she asks and looks around the room and they're all just watching this interplay and don't any of them understand that the shield is protecting them?

"Yes," David answers, straightens up and he sounds like he thinks everything is settled, but Regina raises her hand, he frowns at her.

"You want me to lower the protection barrier that I erected to keep out the witch's flying beasts?" she asks again.

And Snow nods.

"Are you insane?" Regina asks. The wish to have Robin beside her is sudden and strange, she stomps it down without thought, his steady stance beside her would make the world make sense again, she's sure of it.

"We don't think you using magic is such a good idea," Snow says and she looks just like all the mothers on all the basic cable intervention shows Regina would never admit to watching in the middle of the night with popcorn and a tall glass of wine.

Regina snorts, "What?" she says, because she'd used plenty of magic to save Henry from Pan and had used a hefty amount to send Henry and Emma off safely out into North America with new memories, and Snow had nothing to say those times, not a god damned word.

Snow gestures around and the dwarfs are there and Granny and Marco and a bunch of other stupid little people and they're all nodding their heads, "We've come to a decision, Regina, you'll need to stop using your magic. It's led you down a dark path before, and none of us want that for you again."

No. But the word doesn't leave her lips and her brow lowers in a glare; these people had spoken of her future, of her life, and made a decision, without even having a semblance of understanding for magic, and they'd done it all without her, a jury and she thought she wasn't meant to be judged (and that was foolish of her) but here it is. "Magic doesn't work that way, stupid girl," Regina hisses.

Snow's eyes widen, and the memory comes to them both at the same moment, because Regina has not called her stupid girl since Snow was thirteen and had spilled burning hot tea on Regina's hand and Snow had run to her father and it was the only time Leopold had raised a hand to Regina in front of his daughter and the little bitch had gasped but told her she shouldn't have called her stupid.

"Hey," David calls out indignantly, but Regina talks over him.

"I was born with magic, it isn't something I can stop," Regina snarls.

Snow smiles at her, hopeful and excited, "We spoke to Blue," she says, looking so fucking earnest, "she says she can help us. She knows a way to block your magic permanently."

Air comes whooshing out of Regina in a heavy gasp, the betrayal and the anger swirling with something resembling panic, she should have seen this coming, she thinks. Trusting Snow had only ever hurt her before, and why would this time be different? (God how she wanted it to be different) First they take her magic, then comes the cage and then it's her tied to a stake and dead with ten arrows shot through her and she won't have it again, will never be powerless again. "No," she finally gets out, shaking her head in controlled jerking movements, and she shudders, her panic carrying her somewhere, where-

remembering the leather cuff that had drained her the last time she'd been powerless, two days tortured and powerless and refusing to cry, refusing to scream, but she had, she had screamed near the end, the electric shocks that ran through her from head to toe and Greg's taunting face, the boy Owen in some of his features, and it smells like the docks and the sound of the ocean is rushing through her ears now and pain is racing up her body like a living thing and that is what happens without magic, pain and fear. She takes a step back from the table, losing touch with where she is, even as she tries to calm herself, this display of weakness is gnawing at her, but she can't stop. Greg's voice is in her ears as Granny is walking towards her, Regina holds up a splayed palm and the women stops.

Regina shakes her head so hard her hair whips around, "no," she says and she's shuddering harder and Granny takes another step and it's concern on her face but when her hand touches Regina's wrist Regina throws herself away violently, she can't breath, and it's Greg she sees and the heavy weight of the leather cuff and he'd told her she was a monster (and he was right) and flipped the switch and her body had arched off the gurney and it smelled of burnt hair and-

-pain and fear-

-strapped to the gurney, helpless and vulnerable, her neck laid bare-

-two days-

-the smell of the sea, the smell of Greg's aftershave as he'd leant over her and sneered in her face and called her monster, monster monster, you're a monster-

Arms wrap around her, strong and sure and strength flows and it's Robin, she knows before she even thinks to fight, it's Robin, and he's shooshing her with his mouth against her ear and Regina draws in a ragged breath, like she hasn't breathed in ages, her lungs ache. She is digging into his roughhewn shirt and it feels like she can't stand, a pounding headache is ringing her in ears.

"It's alright," he tells her, and he sounds scared, and she's scared too, is still seeing Greg's face even as she knows he is gone, Robin's warmth and solid body chasing away Greg's phantom presence, his torture in the past. She'd deserved it, she'd deserved every moment of that torture, but she shudders and gasps as Robin's hand pulls on a knot in her hair as he runs his fingers through it. He cups the back of her head and cradles it against his chest.

She stands in his embrace, soaking up his magic, trying to breath, strengthening herself against him, it takes long minutes, she tries to speak, but it's babble, and Robin shooshes her gently again, turning them so she is shielded by his body and by the wall until she's calmed, and it takes longer then she'd care for. Was that a panic attack? She has no idea.

When she opens her eyes, her head still tucked against Robin's chest, the beating of his heart a steady sound against her ear, she sees the council room is empty save for Snow and Granny. She has no recollection of when everyone else must have left. Regina's legs sag for a moment, everyone had seen her weak. Robin tightens his embrace and he's been keeping up a constant stream of soothing sounding nonsense words since she last tried to speak. Regina unclenches the fabric of his shirt, her fingers ache.

"Regina," Snow says, but she does not move closer and her eyes are wide and she looks scared too.

Regina turns to her, Robin at her back and he moves his hands to her biceps and his grip is gentle, "I'll die before you take my magic," Regina tells Snow, her voice shaking, her chin held high.

"We just wanted to help you, Regi-"

"Help me?" Regina asks and it comes out strangled.

"Yes, of course," Snow says and she flickers a smile, but it turns down into a frown near instantly. She looks uncertainly at Granny and the old women frowns back, arms crossed and it's her famous 'told you so' expression.

"Help me, by tearing away a chunk of my soul?" Regina spits, and that's what magic is to a baby born with it, a part of you always and she'd felt like something was missing from her every day in Storybrooke, a hollow place right beside the hole in her heart, and magic had come back when Emma broke the curse and it had missed her too, dug in its claws and it would kill her to live without it, it would make sure it would kill her.

Snow is shaking her head, "No, no, Regina, you could be happy-"

"You don't understand," Regina says and throws her hands up as Snow steps closer.

"Make me understand, please, I'll listen," she pleads, but Regina was done teaching Snow the moment Leopold stopped breathing, never again her duty to play mother to the brat.

Regina shakes her head, mouth screwing up, wetness on her cheeks that she will not admit to and she turns to walk out the room with Robin following after her, he keeps a hand on her, on her shoulder, her arm, even a fleeting touch at the base of her neck, his touch on her in some way all the way to her chambers and she lets him because the touch is comforting and kind and it keeps her away from memories that she'll bury when she has the will.

She'd woken with the dawn maybe two hours ago and she already wants the day to be done, she gathers her skirts in one hand and climbs onto the bed. She tugs on Robin's hand and he's immovable for a second, but she pulls again without looking at him, and he climbs up too then and when she collapses down on top of the covers half of her is on his chest and a bone deep sigh leaves her lips.

His arms wrap around her, his fingers are in her hair, "I knew you needed me," he says and she can't see his face, but he sounds frightened and unsure, but he runs a calming hand up and down her spine. "How did I know?" he asks.

And she thinks it probably has to do with the magic he doesn't know he has, the magic the same color as hers, but that's a conversation she can't have now, and so she does not answer, and he does not ask again, and they lay in the bed together and it doesn't mean anything (she knows that's a lie, everything with Robin means something), it's just comfort and Regina presses her cheek to his chest and breathes him in, green growing things, wet fertile earth, leather and woodsmoke, the smells of him lull her.

And it doesn't mean anything at all, but they do not sleep and it's the most safe Regina has felt in years.

* * *

Roland soaks in the attention she showers on him at dinner, she's sitting with the Merry Men again, between Robin and Roland and she's cocooned herself between them. She pats his hair, hugs his shoulders, and the boy smiles away and is pleased and thank goodness, because if he'd pulled away Regina fears she wouldn't react at all well and maybe he can see how much she needs him, his eyes flicker around her, at only what he can see.

She can feel Robin next to her, practically vibrating and perhaps he wants to touch her as she is touching Roland but he's holding himself back, and she's glad because she'd needed his touch and warmth and comfort laying with him for hours on her bed, but would not appreciate it now, and that he knows that… she's glad he knows it.

Arthur leans across the table, asks her if she's alright, and she looks at him blankly before she nods. He turns away with a frown and Regina wonders how long it took for word of her fit, her weakness, to spread to every corner of the castle.

"Sooooo," a drunken slur from behind them.

Regina closes her eyes and her shoulders tense, she's so tired, and the voice came from right behind her and she just wants to eat in peace, with Roland and Robin and she knows whatever this is, is trouble and she doesn't want it. She doesn't want it. She's so tired of fighting.

"-had to come see for myself," the voice continues, Robin has turned to face the newcomer and his face is twisted and angry. Arthur and John across the table look at each other and stand up. Roland drops his fork down and grabs Regina's hand, and it's a protective hold and he doesn't make to turn and neither does Regina.

"The good man," the drunk spits, "Robin Hood, courting the Evil Queen," and he laughs derisively and Regina's eyes widen, looking at her half eaten plate of food. Courting, echoes in her head, but they aren't….not courting, and that's…it's not-

"Back. Off." Robin bites out, slamming his hands on the table as he twists in his seat and stands, swings his legs over the bench and Regina does turn then, to keep him in her sight.

The other man is as tall as Robin, and thicker, corded with muscle and he looks mean and he's a mess, smells of spirits and vomit but Regina has seen him before, had thought he was one of the Robin's crew.

"Tuck says he doesn't want me anymore," the drunk says, giggling like he's mad and he stumbles, "Robin's a good man, and you're not," he says and he's mocking Tuck with a fairly accurate impression, "but here you all are," and he yells to everyone at the table, and the soft sound of silverware and conversation has ceased in the hall, everyone looking at the drunk, "sharing meat and mead with the Evil Queen!"

John and Arthur are inching forward from around the table, their hands fisted, and Robin has his hands curled into fists as well.

The drunk looks at her, leers at her, her skin crawls and Roland flings his arms over her, a glare on his tiny face, and the drunk laughs, "You've been tricked by a pretty face," he tells Robin, and Robin steps towards him, "she's a monster underneath," he says and then far quicker than she'd expected from a drunkard he snaps forward and grabs a handful of her hair, dragging her from her seat by the scalp, Roland grasping at her.

Regina could throw him away with magic, stick him to the wall, but she hesitates, thinks of the people clamoring to tear her magic away, and even if they see its defense with their own eyes they will still use it against her and she can't be watching all the time and one night they'll get her and trap her and rip her soul apart and Snow will say it was for the best.

Before she's really made her choice the cold bite of a dagger is at her throat and it's too late to throw him away, but she could still disappear in a cloud of smoke, she raises her hands, and tugs on the man's wrist, trying to get some maneuvering room, some space, but his arm is like an iron band, unmovable, he digs the dagger in and she stops at the pain, at the trickle of blood that travels down her neck.

"I'll show you what's inside," the drunk screams with his hand still tearing her hair, stretching her neck back, Regina's eyes widen, trying to think. More blood flows.

"Stop it! Stop!" and Robin has pleading hands raised and he's got eyes only for her bloody neck and the dagger and Regina feels badly that he is so frightened, and Roland is weeping and she wishes he wouldn't.

"A good man!" the drunk laughs, his stinking breath blowing past her ear, fluttering her hair, his breath stinks of vomit. The dagger digs even deeper, she hisses out a breath, and he wrenches her neck farther, "Balls deep in a fucking monster and they all still say you're a good man!"

And she senses it a second before he does it, he digs down, slits her throat straight to the bone and she'll be dead in seconds and blood is everywhere and it's loud and it's all a blur and she's on her back on the floor and her hands come up to her neck but she's already too far gone to heal herself and this is death, she's dying and it's all slippery blood and sound is muffled and she's blinking and can't breathe and everything is heavy and her hands fall away and she's dying she's

* * *

authors note, It's labeled angst for a reason yall

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	15. Chapter 15

"Will Regina be eating with us all the time?" Roland asks as he grabs his father's hand and swings it, and he doesn't notice the look Little John wears as he asks, but Robin does.

"I don't know, my boy," Robin answers as he kneels down, he straightens the boy's shoulders affectionately until he is standing straight and looking him in the eye, and Robin smiles, "Why don't you go ask her to join us for breakfast, hmmm?"

Roland's face splits into a massive smile, and he nods before sprinting off, little arms pumping.

Robin watches him go, soft smile in place as the child nearly trips twice in his rush and then he's turned the corner without one look back and Robin rises, crosses his arms and looks at Little John, "Something's on your mind, I'll have it, come on." Little John crosses his own arms but he looks sad and flustered and Robin backs down a little, and knows Little John is his closest friend, his oldest friend, "What is it?" Robin entreats again.

"They say she's enchanted you," John says and he doesn't look away, and so he can plainly see the way Robin's jaw tenses and his eyes tighten.

"They?" Robin echoes, and forces his voice calm.

But John shakes his head, "You've not looked at a woman since Marian," John says instead and he's got imploring eyes, "please, Robin, why the Evil Queen? Of all the woman in-"

"Don't call her that," Robin says and he lets out a breath.

John grabs his shoulder, draws him in closer, "Don't forget who she is, Robin." And then he's gone, walking away and Robin lets him go, his words bouncing through his head. Still bouncing even ten minutes later when Roland drags Regina to the breakfast table, and boy and woman are both wearing smiles and she lifts Roland under the arms to the bench seat and the boy giggles as her long hair falls in a curtain before his face for just a moment.

And then her smile turns to him and Robin answers it with one of his own and this is who she is, he thinks, but whispering in the back of Robin's head, whispering in John's voice, is the name Evil Queen.

She loads Roland's plate first, eggs and a slab of ham that she cuts into tiny pieces, toast, and when she loads her own she's given herself less than the boy and Robin eyes her plate with concern but it's not his place to say anything, not yet, and if she doesn't eat enough at dinner he's not sure what he'll do, but it gnaws on him.

"I like yellow," Roland says as he pokes at his eggs, shovels in a mouthful. Robin hadn't been paying much mind to the boy's words, but that cuts through his thoughts. It makes him smile.

"Is it your favorite?" Regina asks, and she sounds different with Roland than with anyone else, as if everything the little boy says is noteworthy and valued and she listens to him like an equal and Roland revels in it, Robin can't imagine any child not.

Roland finishes his bite and nods, "What's your favorite, Regina?"

And she tilts her head and gives it a moment, "I like blue," she finally answers.

"That's a good color," Roland answers and Regina goes in with a napkin to the boy's face and she clears away egg from his chin.

Robin's smile only grows.

* * *

"Robin!" It's David, jogging up with a smile and Robin nods in return as the other man catches him.

"Good morning," Robin greets, and it had been.

"Good morning, Robin," the other man says, but it's distracted and the other man is looking around like he expects something to come from the shadows, "look, can I speak to you for a moment?" he's already got a hand on Robin's arm, dragging him to an empty corner of the already rather sparsely occupied courtyard.

"What is it?" Robin asks, but is not concerned.

David licks his lips, he's got the bullheaded expression that Robin has seen on countless men right before they've done something stupid, "You should be careful with Regina," the man finally says.

Robin takes a step back, his mouth twists up at the unwanted advice, that John had said something similar just that morning means nothing here, because John is his oldest friend, and David is a Royal Robin doesn't even know.

"I think what I do or don't do is entirely my own decision, thank you, David," and its cold enough to freeze. Robin is already turning away with a hard grim frown but David shoots a hand out.

"No," he says, "no," and Robin lets him turn him, "that's not what I meant," David says. Robin nods for him to go on, his eyes still narrowed.

David takes a breath, "She's lost a lot," he finally says and Robin nods again, because even a blind man could see the pain Regina suffers, the ache and loneliness of loss. "She likes you," David says with a gesture at him, and the tips of Robin's lips go up, "and Snow and I, we don't want to see her hurt."

"I would never hurt her," Robin says and it's the truth, but he looks at David and wonders why David cares, the man who feels it alright to grab and shake Regina when she's ill, and this protective side is almost completely at odds with the attitude he's seen previously and it's strange indeed, Snow and David's relationship with Regina is twists and turns that Robin can't follow.

"Of course," David says and he looks away and shifts on the balls of his feet, "it's only, that if you're planning on…you see, I know she's a beautiful woman, a conquest, and if that's all that you care for, you shouldn't-"

"David," Robin interrupts sharply, his ire leaping up tenfold. Outraged that David would think so low of him, would imagine his care only lust. It disgusts Robin.

David swallows and looks at him.

"What I plan on doing with Regina isn't any of your business, but I'll say again, I would never hurt her."

"Of course," David says again and he turns and walks away and Robin frowns after him.

* * *

Arthur makes her blush, her cheeks reddened is endlessly endearing. It's beautiful. Her cheeks red and burning, her hand comes up to block view of her face and she's guffawing like she's never heard a ribald joke before and is totally unprepared for this deluge that Arthur is treating her too.

She'd slid against Robin on the bench, and hadn't moved away, her whole body shakes with her choked laughter and Robin wants to wrap an arm around her, feel the softness of her, he can smell her hair, some vanilla smell that spreads warmth through him.

And he thinks perhaps the high born lady turned Queen really hasn't heard this tavern talk before, and it makes him smile, and other men up and down the table are smiling too, chuckling and the wariness begins to dim and they squint and they see just a laughing woman, this is who she is Robin thinks, she is a woman who has to look up even when sitting to look Arthur in the eye, who tucks her hair behind her ears and almost snorts wine through her nose and she is just like anyone else, not some monster, cold and unfeeling.

Robin places his hand on her back and she is solid and real and her chest is vibrating with her laughter and she turns to glare at him with her blushing face and he laughs, and when she leans back into his touch his smile grows and Arthur raises his eyebrows at him over her head.

* * *

She pants, breath hot against his cheek, "Robin," she chokes out.

God, what her voice does to him.

Her body is covered in slick sweat and he's between her legs and her thighs are soft and her whole body is soft and cushioned and she's opened for him and panting and she squirms under him and he places open mouth kisses on her neck and sucks and bites and she's wet for him. So wet.

"Robin," she breathes again and her hands claw against his back, savages him and he hisses and thrusts his tongue in her mouth and grabs her hand and pulls it between them and she grins against his lips and wraps her hand around his length and he grunts.

When she guides him in she's hot and wet and so fucking tight and he groans and it takes everything to hold himself back but he does and he slides in slow as her knees draw up on either side of him and she's keening, her mouth open, and he wants to fuck her so badly but he wants to love her too, and she'll scream his name, over and over and he ducks down grabs that open mouth for a messy kiss, she cups his jaw with her hand and he can feel the whimper that leaves her as he's in then out, skin slapping against skin.

"Alright?" he asks, and she nods, let's out a choked gasp as he grabs her hip, adjusting her rhythm until it's perfect, they are perfect, in and out and in and her hands drop to the sheets, and she grasps them in tight fists and her tits bounce as he slams in then out, harder, and faster and the noises she makes drive him mad and-

Robin wakes up to sunlight in his eyes and a raging erection, visions of Regina still in his mind and he lays in bed for a moment, breathing deeply and his jaw is tight and he's already so close, he closes his eyes, under the blanket he grasps himself.

He grunts out something unintelligible even to him, her name maybe, working himself over and it's not the same as the dream because he's aware but he needs relief and he thinks of her perfect mouth, her lips and he's stays quiet but his neck is straining, his mouth open, his head thrown back and he works himself up and down and when he finally comes with a grunt it's to the vision of her between his legs on the bed, looking up at him with dark eyes and his dick in her mouth.

* * *

On the way to breakfast with John beside him, Robin rubs a hand over his chest, digging in, there's a pulling in there, not quite painful but noticeable and he's completely not listening to whatever John is saying.

"Robin."

And John is glaring at him when he turns to look, "I'm sorry, John," he apologizes but he keeps rubbing the spot over his heart and now a grimace makes its way to his features.

"Are you alright?" and John takes a step forward with concerned eyes.

"Yes," Robin says but he's not, he has never felt this before, and-

Panic blooms in Robin, but it's not his own and instantly he knows it is Regina.

It runs over him like a stream, immersing him, coating him-

her-

pain runs through her body, like fire under skin and she's screaming in her head but refuses to open her mouth and he can hear an echo of her in his head and he stumbles away from John and ignores the other mans worried calls and he needs Regina and she's crying and screaming and arching her back painfully as every muscle in her body cramps and she's slamming her eyes closed but a man's face is there on her closed eyelids, sneering and cruel and whispers in her ear, monster monster, he says, and he smells her hair and she flinches away and he calls her evil and believes him, she believes him and she thinks she deserves it and-

Robin needs her, he needs her, to see she's alright, but she isn't alright, he doesn't know where he's going, he's just going to her-

Robin bursts into the council chamber, he's panting and wild eyed, he sees her, he rushes to her. She's got her back to the wall and she's panting too and her eyes are closed and she's crouched down and great sobbing breaths leave her and she's not taking nearly enough in and Robin glares at everyone, their gawking faces and they've just stood and watched her crumble, "Get out!" he seethes, gesturing in one angry swipe of his arm.

The assorted people take one look at his snarling face and hastily heed him, making towards the door with shuffling feet, except for Granny and Snow, but Robin has already moved to Regina. He hauls her up and hugs her against him, he holds her tightly and her body is pliant and soft against him but her whole body convulses as she takes a ragged breath.

"It's alright," he says to her but it's not and Robin has fright still running through his body and it's her he's frightened for and how he knew she needed him and that scares him too, because he'd known and ran to her and knew what pained her and she thinks she deserved it, the cruel man with the sneer had called her evil and she'd agreed and she thinks she deserved it, and that frightens Robin most of all.

She's shuddering against him and he runs a hand up and down her spine, pressing down to help her escape her memories and he cradles her head to him, her dark hair soft between his fingers and he presses a kiss to the side of her head and whispers into her ear, "Shhhh, it's alright," when she tries to speak.

Robin closes his eyes and tucks his chin on top of her head and hugs her and holds her and whispers to her and he'd known a man once, a trapper, who'd had fits and he screamed and raged and been trapped in his mind, stuck in his worst memories, and the only thing that got him out was his wife's voice, and so he soothes Regina the same way he had seen the trappers wife sooth her husband. "You're safe," he tells her and in his arms she always will be he promises himself and he whispers to her and looks over her head to Granny and Snow and Snow looks almost close to tears.

"Regina," Snow asks, taking one step, Regina doesn't hear her.

It takes Regina a worryingly long time to come back to him. But then she does and he could cry with relief.

Regina turns in his embrace, doesn't step away and his hands rub up and down her arms as she looks to Snow. "I'll die before you take my magic," she says and her voice is raw and she's still catching her breath and Robin's hand stop on her biceps.

Snow's hands fly up, begging Regina to see, "We just wanted to help you, Regi-"

And Regina hunches forward, her back bent and Robin stretches his arms to keep her in his grasp, "Help me?" Regina repeats and it's disbelieving and broken and Snow looks about uncertainly.

"Yes, of course," Snow says and she's got such earnest eyes but Regina is still shaking under his fingers and if this is what Snow's help looks like, he'd rather she not offer.

"Help me, by tearing away a chunk of my soul," Regina asks and it's almost a wail and Robin can't see her face but Snow flinches back and tears are in her eyes, and she shakes her head.

"No, no, Regina you could be happy-"

"You don't understand," Regina spits and throws up her hands, she turns half back to Robin.

Snow finally takes that step, just one and she's got begging eyes but she wants so much. Regina cringes back from her, "Make me understand, please, I'll listen," she says.

Regina walks away, and Robin goes along.

And she stomps all the way to her chambers, a path Robin knows well and he follows her through the doors, all the way to the bed and she's got her hand in his, wrapped around his fingers and she tugs at him as she climbs up on her knees onto the bed and she's got her skirts gathered up and her legs are smooth and bare and he stands rigid and doesn't think this is wise at all but she tugs at him again and he can see her face, and she's hurt and wants him with her and he allows himself to be tugged after her.

She lays with her chest against his, her breasts pressed against him and he hugs her, breathes her in and she's soft and she tucks her head on his shoulder and he feels the sigh she lets out against his neck.

"I knew you needed me," he questions and squeezes her for just a second and he needs to know if she really has enchanted him, wrapped him up somehow in her and he'd come because she'd called him, but he knows that's all nonsense, because since the moment he'd seen her, fireball in her hand, sneer on her face, he'd been drawn to her, and the fault is only his own.

"How did I know?" he asks.

And she does not answer and they lay together on the bed and she's warm and so, so soft and he loses himself in touching her, careful touches and he doesn't kiss her and she hardly moves, but she lets him run his hands over her back, through her hair and she breathes deeply and easily, and it feels like something he'd lost has come back to him, but he doesn't know what and he doesn't ask again, is glad she hadn't answered because whatever answer she might have, it would be too much.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	16. Chapter 16

He had held her for hours, and it's opened up a need for her that seems unquenchable. The need to touch, the need to care for and support. Touching her seems like it will be as mindless a gesture as touching Roland is, as if it is right and like it has been that way always. But he stops himself. She'd shied away from his hands when they'd entered the dining hall, and so he stops himself from cradling her the way he'd want to.

She's wrapped around Roland and Robin knows alone in her bed is different than at the dinner table, but god he wants to hold her to him even now. He doesn't know what they are to each other, knows some of his affection is returned, of course, but beyond that he does not know what to call the pair he's suddenly craving to be a part of. He wants to be with her. It's as simple, and completely complex, as that.

Everyone is looking at her, turning their heads and whispering and Regina acts like she does not know, perhaps she does not care, but Robin is seething, and his jaw is clamped shut at the horrible show of impoliteness and disrespect in her own castle, they whisper behind her back.

.

Little John looks at him from across the table, reaches over and unclenches his hand from his knife. Arthur asks her if she's alright and there's a beat of silence, Robin turns to look at her and her face is blank. She nods, does not blink and she turns back to Roland and Arthur frowns, brows furrowed in concern and he looks from John to Robin but Robin has eyes only for Regina, turned away from him and he's got his hand already rising from the table top, fingers so close to her dark hair and he wants to run his fingers through it.

"So had to come see for myself," Tom says and Robin drops his hand back to the table. Inhaling a long breath through his nose, jaw clamping shut and teeth grinding. He turns and glares at the drunk swaying behind him, and Tom is not something he wants right now, at all, ever, and he doesn't want him near his boy, or near Regina.

"The good man Robin Hood courting the Evil Queen," and Tom leans forward, face scrunched in disgust and Robin feels his face burning, rage that had been directionless, now focused, his blood thrumming through his head.

Tuck is down the table and he cringes and shrinks down but says nothing and Robin's anger boils even more.

"Back. Off." Robin snaps, stands so fast the bench he'd been sitting on knocks back and forth, Regina wobbles as she turns to look at him, her hand flinging out to the crook of his elbow for a second before she draws it back.

"Tuck says he doesn't want me anymore," Tom says and takes a stumbling step, raising one accusatory finger at Robin and hate and rage are in his eyes and Robin returns it all in equal measure. "Robin's a good man, and you're not," and Tom giggles, leans back and bellows for the huge hall to hear, "but here you all are sharing meat and mead with the Evil Queen!"

The hall is quiet. Not clatter of silverware or dishes, no conversation. All watching the drunk and the drama and the woman they call the Evil Queen seemingly at the cause of it.

Robin's hand curl into fists and he takes a step forward as Tom looks down at Regina, and her dark eyes turn up to look at Tom in return. He leers down at her, eyes dipping down to her cleavage, stinking breath moving the flutters of hair around her face, but she doesn't back down, her glare hot. Roland is trying to look brave next to her, but has a handful of her sleeve, and looks like the scared little boy that he is. "You've been tricked by a pretty face," Tom says and he looks back at Robin and madness is in those eyes and mad men are no men at all and Robin takes another step and fear has moved in on him suddenly, time seems to slow, how strange, and he remembers Tom slaughtering a guard and Tuck had never told Robin but Arthur had whispered of it with haunted eyes and had never spoken to Tom again.

"She's a monster underneath," Tom says and then he's got a handful of her beautiful dark hair, her soft wonderful hair in his fist and he's dragging her over the bench by it and she yelps, her hands raised over her head and on Tom's, her face twisting up as she stumbles to try to keep pace as Tom walks them both backwards, farther away from Robin whose following after, shock and that boiling anger make him snarl. Time seems still to move so slowly, only to speed abnormally fast when Tom has a dagger to her throat.

And Robin stops his steps, heavy breaths and wide eyes and there's already blood on her neck, on the dagger and Regina stops struggling after Tom gives her a violent shake and blood is a steady stream out of a shallow wound on her neck.

"I'll show you what's inside!" Tom yells and he's got panic in his eyes, like he didn't plan on this and he doesn't see a way out and that's no good because men with no way out have nothing left to lose and Robin knows, he knows it, he know Tom is going to kill Regina, can see it already, the blood, her sightless eyes. No. Robin, thinking of a life spent with her only minutes ago, sees her dead in moments and the life he didn't want to imagine flicks before his eyes, loving her, knowing her better than he knows himself, supporting her, marrying her and bedding her and being there for her always, it's on the brink of a precipice. Her life in danger.

But she doesn't look frightened.

"Stop it! Stop!" Robin says, he's begging, has never begged for anything, but he's begging now, his hands up and pleading. Roland is being held back on the bench and it takes two Merry Men to restrain him and he's screaming and sobbing.

"A good man!" Tom bellows and Robin sees David race into the chamber, his sword unsheathed and Snow enters right after. "Balls deep in a fucking monster and they all still say you're a good man!"

He slits her throat.

Slits her throat and its blood all across her front in seconds, gushing like a horrid waterfall, drenching her dress, her neck, her breasts, blood spreading across fabric all the way down to her thighs. Tom throws her down, away from him and looks as if he's going to flee. He doesn't get far. Robin screams, a guttural cry that comes right from the center of him and it's like something's shifted in the world and everything is a shade darker and he sees red, he sees red, he knocks John out of the way and he stabs Tom, he sees red and he stabs Tom in the gut with his dagger and he sees red. Robin twists the blade.

"Papa!"

Tom, still hung on the blade, is slow to slide down to the floor, the other man grasps at Robin's elbow, looking up at him as he sinks slowly to the floor, he's got his mouth open, he's choking out words. But Robin can't hear over the thrumming in his ears, the world is red and he can hear nothing, he stares into Tom's eyes until he pulls the blade out and steps away. Tom sprawls across the floor. Dead. Robin is covered in blood and it's still all red.

"PAPA!"

Robin turns, looks down at Regina, she's in a huge puddle of blood, so much blood, and she's not moving, her lips colorless and her eyes are open and sightless and she stares and stares up at the ceiling and her eyes are empty, her fingers curled in that puddle of blood and her neck is open, bone and blood and muscle and it's the most terrible thing Robin has ever seen and he stumbles and falls to his knees in the puddle of blood, his dagger clatters to the ground from numb fingers.

He looks up at Roland, the boy is fighting tooth and nail against restraining hands, and he looks mad, spitting and screaming and Robin thinks he tells them to let him go, because they do let him go, and the boy falls and scampers to Regina and he skids in her blood, so much blood, and his little hands are on that gaping wound on her neck and he's whispering. Robin can't hear him.

Robin reaches for him, his body heavy in the worst way, like it doesn't want to live, to draw him away, "Roland," he says, and he's sobbing, and he's covered in blood and he reaches for his boy, "Roland." One hand latches onto the boy's shoulder and at the touch Robin is bowled over by a force he can't see.

Roland keeps on his whispering, doesn't look at his father as Robin clamors back onto his knees, and Robin watches with his mouth open in wonder and fear as Roland's hands glow, blinding blue lilac, his little face is scrunched in focus and he's whispering, whispering and Regina's curled fingers twitch, the gaping maw of neck disappears behind a crisscross haze that spreads out from Roland's tiny hands and the boy is shaking and Robin wants to hold him, but all he can do is stare and stare, dumbfounded and feeling as if the world has stopped being real.

Regina's sightless eyes blink, once, eyes still empty of life in their sockets, her mouth moves, her jaw shifting, her teeth are stained red under red stained lips. Her whole arm twitches uo and falls back with a splat in the puddle of blood. Roland puts his forehead against hers and he's gasping and whispering.

"Roland," Robin says desperately and he comes closer and he doesn't touch but he gets close enough to hear and Roland is whispering.

"Don't leave," the boy cries, "Regina, don't leave, you can't go, please, don't, please," over and over and Roland is shaking and the power under his hands is brighter than the sun and Robin has to squint and raise a hand to protect his eyes and Roland keeps whispering to her.

Her whole body spasms and it doesn't look natural, but she draws in a huge screaming breath and the blinding light winks out.

Roland slumps down on top of Regina, and doesn't move. Regina still lays in her puddle of blood and her eyes are closed now. Robin crawls towards them and he checks on Roland first, turns the boy over and he's breathing and his pulse is strong. Robin lays him down gently half in his lap, and reaches for Regina, her neck is still covered in that crisscross haze, so he feels for her pulse at her wrist, he does not breathe until he feels it, the slow thud thud of her pumping blood, he sobs out a broken breath and falls atop her, hand under her head and knotted in her blood soaked hair and he draws her up and holds her, with Roland between them.

Hands are on his shoulders, shaking him, and Roland is drawn away and Robin snarls before he looks and sees it's Arthur that's got a hold of the boy, Arthur, with worried eyes, gazing all about as he cradles Roland in his arms. The noise of the hall comes rushing in Robin's ears, Robin can hear now the crowd and they watch, eyes on Roland and Regina, and their droning sounds like an angry hive of bees. John is at Robin's other side, picking Regina out of her puddle of blood and cradling her as Arthur does the child. "Come on, Robin," John orders, voice gruff, "now, come on," Robin nods and rises. His legs shake, and his hand flexes, but he doesn't stoop to retrieve his dagger as he passes it. He does not look down at Tom as he passes. He keeps his eyes on Regina, follows after her as John carries her, and Robin sees Snow with tears in her eyes as she reaches out to touch Regina as John walks by but David stops her, shaking his head.

Robin follows blindly as Arthur leads them to Robin's rooms, he shares the hall with the rest of the Merry Men, Arthur's room is right next door and John's across the hall. Robin doesn't even question their destination, lost in a haze as he is, until John and Arthur's voices filter through his brain, they can't put Roland or Regina on any of the beds because they are covered in blood, they need a washing, both of them, and Arthur says he'll take Roland and walks away to wash the boy. He asks Robin's permission first, and Robin finds himself nodding. It's all still a blur.

John tells Robin to sit. Robin's legs give way and he collapses on the stone floor, right there in the hall, Regina placed in his arms instantly. John cradles the back of Robin's head in a large hand, a steady hand as he bends down and tells him he will return in moments, that he's off to find the old wolf. And then Robin is alone with Regina in his arms and he's just holding her.

Holding her to him the way he'd wanted to before-

Before-

Before this nightmare. He holds her close, rocking back and forth and holding her body close.

His thoughts are incoherent, but for one. Roland has magic.

He clutches her tighter and she groans, and he almost laughs from relief, but she does not stir beyond that sound, and that blue crisscross haze is bright and casts shadows on her blood covered face. He leans forward and kisses her forehead and pushes stringy hair back and cradles her jaw and stares and stares at her and his laughter turns into a sob halfway to his mouth and he's squeezing her against him and he sobs, great wracking sobs because he had lost her, as he had lost Marian, sobs because Roland had brought her back, sweet Roland, the beautiful baby boy and he'd saved Regina, with magic and it's wonderful, but what price is there for this, magic is never free, nor kind. Robin doesn't know how long he sits there but when he feels a hand on his shoulder he flinches, but it's Granny, with John behind her.

"Get her up," Granny orders, gesturing.

Granny has them carry Regina to the washroom, have them place her gently in the tub and he's loathe to leave her but Granny shoos him out with a stern expression. John has to drag Robin out, and has to drag him down the hall, each footfall away from her is painful, John drags Robin to another washroom.

"She's alive, Robin, she's safe," John tries to sooth as he throws a wash cloth at Robin, but Robin doesn't catch it, and it falls with a wet thump to the ground.

"I killed him," Robin says.

John claps hands on either side of Robin's head and forces Robin to look at him, square in the eye, "You've killed before, and you'll kill again, Robin," he tells him and it's not comforting, but it's the truth. Robin has killed to protect his brothers in arms, and protect Marian, and he'd killed to protect Roland, but those were faceless men who he'd never known. Men who would take lives if their lives had not been taken first. Tom was not faceless, Tom, with keen hazel eyes and thin lips, a strong jaw and a booming laugh, Tom, who liked his beef burned, had hated the croaking of frogs, Robin knew Tom, did not like him, did not call him friend, yet knew him all the same, and now Tom is dead and Robin had been the one to wield the blade.

But he thinks of Regina in that huge puddle of blood. Tom did that.

Robin cleans himself hastily, his hands shake as he wipes away the red. He makes it back to the closed door behind which Regina waits in under five minutes with wet hair and fresh clothes, the old had been ruined beyond any salvage, and he sits with his back against the wall and waits. And he waits and waits for Granny to be finished. Waits to see Regina again.

As Robin watches the door, John watches him, a worried frown under the scruff on his face. Arthur comes carrying Roland not long after, the boy is placed in Robin's arms and he cradles him as he'd cradled Regina and he kisses the boy's wet curls and the boy snuggles closer in his sleep. The boy has bags under his eyes, dark circles and he looks ill, but his pulse is strong. Tension eases in Robin's chest as he holds Roland. The boy has magic, Robin thinks, the boy healed Regina.

Robin closes his eyes and breathes Roland in, and whispers "thank you" into the boys ear.

And when Granny finally opens the door and says she's done, Regina's in one of Little John's shirts, swallowed up by it and she looks tiny and suddenly frail, and Robin never wants to see her this way again.

Arthur carries her to Robin's own chamber, doesn't ask, just does so and he lays her down on the blankets and Robin, following closely behind with Roland in his arms, he plops the boy next to her. The child turns instantly and snuggles against her but she is still, far too still, horribly and terrifyingly still, Robin leans forward to feel the breath leaving her nose with his fingers. And when that does not satisfy him he lays his hand atop her ribs to be certain the lungs inside are rising and falling.

"They'll be a man at the end of the hall, all night," Arthur tells him and Robin nods.

Arthur leaves and John follows. Granny walks to the bed, she pushes wet hair off of Regina's forehead and she sighs, her palm against Regina's cheek and she lets out a bitter chuckle, looks to Robin, "Girl can't catch a break," she tells him and then she's out the door and he's alone with them both.

And he stares at them, tucks them under the blankets and he sits in the chair beside the bed, and stares and stares until he falls asleep.

* * *

"Robin?"

Robin blinks, he's got a horrible crink in his neck, "hnng?" he responds and blinks his eyes open.

"Robin," she says again, and her voice is raw and mangled, but it's her, her beautiful voice.

Robin rushes up, racing from the chair to her side and she looks awful, pale with huge dark circles under her eyes and her lips are still colorless but the crisscross haze has dimmed and it's smaller, but if you look closely you can still see the pulpy mess behind that haze, Robin does not look closely. He bends over the bed and cradles her head and he breathes her in and he's kissing her forehead again and again as her hand comes up to curl against his neck, her grasp is weak. He leans back only enough to see her fully, and no farther, he could weep for the beauty of her open eyes, dark eyes, but she's already blinking them closed and she hasn't moved away from her spot in the blankets.

"Regina," he whispers and she smiles up at him, a weak upturn of her lips, she hums in response, her hand falling away from his neck, slides down to rest at her side.

"What happened?" she asks, her eyes still shut, and her hair had dried into a knotted curly mess on the pillow under her.

"Roland healed you," he answers and he's running his thumbs over her cheekbones, moving under her lips, caressing her forehead, and he's in awe of her and of Roland, and so incredibly thankful.

Her eyes open sluggishly, "Roland," she says and turns her head to look at the boy snuggled against her and she frowns, "he saw," and Robin turns her face back to him gently, cupping her cheek.

"He healed you with magic," he explains and she nods.

"Powerful," she mumbles, she's already falling back asleep, her eyes slipping shut again, but Robin brings her back with a soft utterance of her name.

"What do you mean?" he questions, unease grows in him.

She tucks her cheek more firmly into Robin's hand, she squeezes Roland closer, "Already gone," she whispers, licking her lips, and she takes a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh, "I was already gone."

Robin, his hand against her soft warm skin, he stares down at her, "He healed you," he says again.

And she shakes her head, "He brought me back," and she turns her whole body and envelops Roland and the boy smiles in his sleep, "brought back the dead," and then she's asleep and the boy is asleep and Robin's eyes grow wide.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	17. Chapter 17

Daylight is shining brightly, near midmorning and neither Regina nor Roland has woken, Granny came and went with uneaten plates of food earlier, and she hid her concern behind gruffness but it was there for Robin to see and he sits in the chair by the bed, his hands clasped in front of his face and stares and stares at the sleeping pair, they both look ill, the kind of ill people don't recover from, but Roland fidgets, as he's always done, grabbing and mumbling and kicking at the blankets, but Regina sleeps like the dead, and the thought unsettles Robin enough to continually reach and feel her ribs rising and falling under his hand, like he'd done when Roland was first born and he'd check on him in the middle of the night.

And that blue band across her wound grows smaller and smaller, and its light dims and dims until it's almost gone, leaving rather pink looking skin in its wake but Robin doesn't think it will even scar. He runs his fingers over the new skin gently, studies it until Regina shifts in her sleep with a little sound of displeasure and he stops.

John offers to watch over them for a time, but Robin shakes his head, he will not leave them sleeping and defenseless, and he grabs at Regina's wrist on the blankets when he tells John no, his grip tight, and Regina shifts under his hand and it takes Little John pulling at him for him to let go, and Robin does with a gasp and he runs his hand over his face and John looks at him and it's deep, unsettled concern in his eyes.

Robin's leaned forward in the chair when Roland wakes up, his brown eyes blinking open and he squeezes Regina around the middle before looking around the room with bleary eyes. And when Roland's eyes find his father he looks frightened, wide eyes brimming with tears almost as soon as he sets eyes on Robin and Robin runs round the bed to him, draws him up and hugs him, crushing the boy to his chest, "Roland," he soothes, rubs his hand up and down the boy's back.

Roland says something, mumbled into Robin's neck, and the boy is holding back sobbing breaths. Robin cranes his neck down, leans back, "What is it?" he asks.

Roland's bottom lip quivers and he won't look him in the eye, "I'm sorry," the boy says, cries and he throws his arms around Robin's neck.

"Shhh," Robin says, and he rocks the boy, sits down on the bed and it warps under his weight, Regina tilts onto her side towards him, her fingers curled near her mouth, but she does not wake. "Roland, sorry for what?"

"I did magic," the boy whispers and his whole body is shaking, and Robin can barely understand him.

"You did magic," Robin agrees and he squeezes the boy, "Roland, you saved Regina, don't be sorry," he cradles Roland's head, showers kisses on his curly hair, "don't be sorry."

Roland leans back, swallowing, and his whole face is a desolate mask of pain, "You don't like magic," he tells his father, "It's bad," he says, "I'm bad," he whispers and sobs, so intensely that he makes no noise and he crashes himself back into Robin's chest, tiny hands covering his face.

"No, no, Roland," Robin's whole face contorts and his eyes slam shut and shame floods him, every snide comment about magic ever uttered in Roland's presence replaying beneath his closed eyelids, "You're not bad, you're my good boy, always," and Robin holds Roland impossibly tighter.

The child is shaking his head against Robin's chest.

"You saved Regina," Robin says and tears are leaking out of his own eyes, "Roland, you saved her, you're such a good, good boy, and I'm sorry, you are not bad, and magic is not bad, Regina has magic, Roland," and Robin isn't even choosing his words, they just flow out he's so intent on making the boy feel better as fast as he can, "It can't be bad if Regina has it," and the boy stills, still sobbing and he clutches a handful of Robin's shirt in his fist.

Robin leans back against the headboard, laying Roland on his chest and rubs his back, repeating over and over that Roland is a good boy, and Robin's shame does not fade, it will never fade, nor will the memory of Roland's huge brown eyes filled with pain and undeserved guilt. Roland falls back asleep, tear tracks drying on his cheeks and Robin sits in the bed with him, one hand on Roland's back, the other resting by Regina's ear, thumb moving back and forth on her temple, fingers in her silken strands of hair.

And he has no idea how long he sits there for, but he jumps as the door opens and John and Arthur would not enter without knocking and Granny had said she'd be back at dinner and the sun is still high in the sky, adrenaline rushes through him and his hand flies away from Regina and he's already moving Roland down to her side, and he's thinking how close he is to the blade he'd left by the chair, when Snow walks through the door.

He shakes his head looking at her, and he doesn't quite glare, but she ignores him and steps into the room like she has some business here.

"How is she?" Snow asks and she rests her hands on the foot of the bedframe, after only a moment leaning forward and gently curling her fingers over Regina's blanket clad heel.

Robin looks at Snow and the only thing he can think is that she hadn't knocked, "You didn't knock," he says and that's not what he meant to say, but things like words had been hard for him to deal with lately.

She looks surprised, "oh, " she exhales and shakes her head, a small smile, and she rounds to Regina's side of the bed, and she's touching Regina's shoulder, "I'm sorry," Snow says but she's not even looking at him, and it's his room, he thinks.

And Regina would not want Snow touching her.

Robin dislodges Snow's hand, gently, gently, forcing her away and he's got his hand where hers was on Regina's shoulder. And Snow looks up at him.

"Did you need something?" he asks and he strains himself to be polite, because Snow is nice and a good person and he has nothing but respect for her, but she'd entered his room without knocking, is touching Regina when Regina cannot pull away and it leaves an acrid taste in his mouth.

"I wanted to see her," Snow says and she's looking at him strange, and he can't find it in himself to care.

"You've seen her," he says, and his thumb rubs circles against Regina's shoulder and she shifts, face tucking into the pillow and her blanket clad legs curl at the knees.

Snow nods, and her hands flutter like she's not sure what to do with them.

"And how is Roland?" she asks after a bit and she looks uncomfortable and she looks at Roland and she looks wary, like the sleeping boy is a dangerous thing.

"He's fine," Robin says and doesn't make it subtle when he glances at the door, "he's sleeping."

She licks her lips and finally starts to walk back to the door, "of course, I'm sorry," she says and she turns in the door way, uses the door like a shield and blocks sight of her body, and she looks at the bed filled with people and she smiles again, a tight little stretched smile, "they'll be right as rain in no time," she tells him and then she's gone and she closes the door without a care and it slams, and Robin flinches with his eyes shut, but the boy in his arms doesn't wake, and Regina mumbles something and she scoots closer to him, and her hand lays flat against his side, and then she's again still.

* * *

Granny wakes them both up for dinner, ignores Robin who thinks to let them stay sleeping, she smooths their dark hair from both their faces and pats their cheeks, "Come on," she says until she's roused them enough to sit them up without manhandling them.

Regina is sitting for less than twenty seconds before she blanches and she sways in her seat, she groans.

Granny helps her back down with a sigh, "Suppose you're nauseous too," Granny says and shakes her head.

But Regina eats a piece of toast and even with that she looks green, but she swallows it down and she looks awful, and she had _died_, Robin reminds himself and he reaches forward and brushes his fingers through her hair and she turns towards his touch.

But Roland eats and eats like a ravenous beast and his color is coming back and he smiles at Robin, still unsure, and Robin wraps an arm around him, "I love you, Roland," he tells the boy.

Regina raises a hand from her reclining position, puts it on Roland's back under Robin's arm and rubs comforting circles there, and Roland smiles.

Roland is on his second round of pork when he looks to Robin and mumbles a sentence that ends with the word 'potty' and Robin grins and picks the boy up.

Granny is at Regina's side, "You too, I bet," the old woman says and doesn't wait for a reply, grabs a handful of blanket, moving them back and helping Regina stand from the bed. Regina leans on Granny, doesn't even pretend to not need to, takes a deep breath and she looks like she's going to faint but she nods and both parties leave the room together, but Robin and Roland get back and wait for Regina and Granny and worry is eating Robin alive but he knows Granny would protect Regina but he's pacing the room and he decides to go look for them right when the door opens, and Regina's tired smile is instantly answered with a relieved one of his own.

He goes to Regina and Granny lets him take her weight and she wilts to the bed and falls asleep as soon as her head is on the pillow, and Robin frowns.

"She'll be fine," Granny tells him, pats his back, ruffles Roland's hair and she collects the used dishes and leaves without a goodbye.

* * *

Marian holds Regina in her lap, and Marians mouth is open and blood is gushing out and out, down her front and she's covered in it and Regina's neck is slashed open and she's got sightless eyes and they stare up and up and Marian looks at him and 'love' she says to him and her eyes are just as empty as Regina's but she has a hand running through Regina's hair and her hand is covered in blood and blood swishes about his ankles and he reaches for them and they are farther and farther away and Regina stares and stares and Marian smiles at him with blood leaking out of the corners of her mouth and she tilts her head and 'love' she repeats and Regina spasms in her arms and blood is up to his knees.

There's a dagger in his hand and he lifts it and the blood is up to his thighs and Marian and Regina are far away and Tom's booming laugh is all around him and Tom had loved to laugh, had laughed and his arm had always slapped his knee when he laughed and Tom is in front of him and the dagger is in Tom's belly and Tom is gasping and grasping at Robin's shirt and Robin can't hear what he's saying even though Tom is right in front of him but that booming laugh is in the background and Tom slides off the dagger and disappears in the flood of blood and Robin has to swim in it and he screams because he cannot see Regina and Marian and he screams and screams and there's a hand pulling at his ankle and Tom's booming laugh is in his ears, he screams

He wakes up gasping, covered in cold sweat, he rocks forward on the chair, shivering.

Regina's looking at him from the bed, her eyes twinkling in moon light and she's alive, he breathes in, hands in his hair, she's alive.

"Robin," she says to him, and she reaches a hand out to him, palm up, and he grasps it in both of his and when she pulls at him he flings himself off the chair and onto the bed, he wraps his arms around her waist, rests his head on her clavicle, holding her to him tightly and he's still shivering.

She plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, tucks her chin down to the top of his head, "I'm sorry," she tells him.

Robin squeezes her tighter, and thinks of Roland saying the same thing; Roland sleeping peacefully on Regina's other side, his little hands tucked under his cheek.

"For what?" he chokes out.

"You killed your friend," she says, and she's not crying but her voice wavers and her fingers tug at his hair before petting it softly back down, "I'm so sorry, Robin."

"He wasn't my friend," Robin tells her and he swallows, because it's the truth, but he'd known Tom since Tom was a teenager, had watched the mean spirited young man grow into a violent man, and he closes his eyes tightly shut.

"I'm sorry," she repeats and cups the back of his head, her other hand between his shoulder blades and it's the first time she's ever touched him like this, she has let Robin touch her, but it's the first time she's reciprocated and Robin can't even muster a smile.

"I would kill anyone who tried to take you from me," he says and it's true, it's already happened, and it scares him how true it is and he hugs her tighter and breathes her in and it scares him how much he'd do for her, to protect her, because he's still got some sense and he hasn't known her long, doesn't know her really, but feels so much and so powerfully, it's a giant mess.

He's a mess and he falls asleep with her scent in his nose and her warm body held in his arms and it's a giant, horrible mess.

* * *

Hard pounding knocks sound against the wooden door and Robin grunts, pulls Regina closer and he hasn't slept so well in years and he decides to ignore it.

It gets louder, and muffled yelling comes through, but they don't open the door, but Robin opens his eyes with a bad tempered sigh.

Roland whines, "Go away," he says and turns to snuggle against Regina, eyes blinking open when he encounters his fathers muscled arm instead of Regina's comfortable waist. Roland glares at Robin's arm, roughly pulling it away and then quickly entering the space he seems to think only as his own.

Robin dredges up a smile, thinks the jealousy is cute on his little boy.

The knocking is constant, and Regina begins to stir, her body shifting all along Robin's and he stops breathing.

But the knocking has gone on absurdly long and Robin rises from the bed, hand gliding along Regina's body as he walks along the bed, gripping her hip before he stomps to the door and opens it with a scowl.

David is standing there, panting, eyes wide and bursts in as soon as the door is open, "Regina," he says and looks like he'll drag her still half asleep from the bed. Robin blocks his path, pushes him back a step, but the other man still looks to Regina, "Regina," he repeats.

Regina glares at David with Roland wrapped around her waist and she doesn't rise, "What is it?" she asks, worry in her voice.

"It's the witch," David says.

Robin steps in front of David again, "Where? Here?"

"She wouldn't make it past the shield," Regina says and she's sitting up, pale and the dark circles are no better under her eyes, she sits up with a grimace and Robin walks over to her, holds onto her shoulder when she sways, and doesn't let her rise when she tries.

Regina glares up at him, her hand coming over his own on her shoulder and it's all she needs to do, he drops his hand away.

She stumbles as she stands, clutches at the bedpost and David is wringing his hands, "She's outside the gates, demanding to see you," he says, but that's not enough to have him so worried.

"What else?" Robin asks.

And David cringes, "She's got a man, a hostage, she's going to kill him unless she sees you," and he meekly gestures at Regina.

She nods, chews on her lip, and looks up at David with a frown, "I'll need something to wear," she says and David looks down her body, blushes and turns away, there's quite a lot of thigh to be seen.

David nods and jogs out the door, "I'll be right back," he calls.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	18. Chapter 18

The rush of black wings unfurling, and that's all she can recall.

The memory has no place, no frame of reference, but Regina can feel the power behind those wings, the strength and ease as they had enveloped her and hugged her and it was black feathers everywhere all around her. That's all she can remember of death.

But Roland's voice, screaming at her, she remembers that, his high voice panicked and desperate, calling to her, crying.

"Please, don't, please, don't go away!" Roland screamed and screamed and it was like he was right next to her but she looked and looked and he was not there, only black feathers.

And then it was pain, she was two places at once, she was safe in the wings and she was bloodied and slashed on the dining chamber floor. The worst pain she'd ever felt, Roland pulled at her and she could feel his tiny hands on her soul and he pulled and pulled.

She drew in a huge breath, screaming breath in lungs that had been still, and she was only on the chamber floor, soaked in blood, and one thought had raced through her, searing, burning, before she passed out, nothing brings back the dead.

* * *

Regina half wakes and all around her is Robin's smell, heavy and humid and comforting, green growing things and fertile earth, and she fumbles around herself, and her hands latch onto a tiny little body smooshed against her and she opens her heavy eyes, and it's harder than she could imagine, but Henry she thinks and forces her eyes open, and somewhere in her she knows Henry has not been this small in many years, but she opens her eyes.

She stares blankly at the curly dark hair against her breast, a beat goes by, and another, before she recognizes the child in her arms.

Roland, she thinks, and she falls even farther into the soft bed she only vaguely recognizes as not her own, and darkness creeps in around the edges of her vision, but she looks out at the room, and squints at the seated figure to her right, on a chair pulled close to the bed.

"Robin?" she calls, her throat is raw and she raises a heavy hand to her neck, encounters the magic there, Roland's magic, warm and smooth and feels like silk against her fingers, and it comes to her again, nothing brings back the dead, and she lets her hand drop away.

Robin hunches forward on the chair, responds with a grunt that ends like a question. "Robin," Regina repeats.

He blinks his eyes open, and his eyes widen looking at her, and he rushes off the chair, comes to her side and bends over her, has his hands on either side of her face and he's kissing her forehead, over and over, his hands bury themselves in her hair and his nose, wet with snot is pressed to the crown of her head, and he draws a deep breath through his nose, inhaling her and she can feel his tears falling against her cheeks.

She raises a hand, and it's not very graceful, but she makes that heavy limb curl around his neck. He's got scratchy stubble on his jaw and she runs her thumb over it, and she's so, so tired, and Roland is like a hot water bottle curled against her and sleep is pulling her back down fast.

"Regina," he says, hushed and there's a note of wonder, and she hums a response, her hand falling away from his neck.

But she remembers having her neck slit open to the bone and there's the feathers and Roland, screaming and pulling, and nothing can bring back the dead, "What happened?" she asks.

"Roland healed you," he answers and it's like his hands are everywhere, warm and strong, his closeness fills her with warmth, it shrouds her in a heavy fur of comfort, his hands running over her features, and he's so close she could kiss him, his breath blowing hot across her face.

"Roland," she says though, and the boy is with her on the bed, and he'd been at dinner when…when she'd had her neck slit open and it was all blood, Regina opens her eyes and turns to look at the boy, "he saw," she says and he'll be traumatized.

Robin turns her to him, hands on either side of her face again, and his eyes are reflecting blue lilac, "He healed you with magic."

And she wants to tell him, tell him about how Roland had healed her once and the boy could see all of her, the messy and dark and evil and the boy still came to her and the boy is a Sorcerer, but more than that, because nothing brings back the dead. But she can't keep her eyes open and she mumbles out "powerful," and it's all she can say and her eyes droop closed.

He pats her cheek softly, and she stirs, sees only a blur when she opens her eyes, and his grip is gentle on either side of her face. "What do you mean?" his voice floats as if through cotton to her ears and she leans into his warm, gentle touch, and he's got callouses on his gentle hands.

"Already gone," Regina says and feels the air rush about her again and the sound of black wings unfurling, black feathers around her, wrapping her in an embrace, "I was already gone," and Roland had pulled and pulled.

"He healed you," he says and his hands slide off her face.

A shake of her head, Roland did more than that she thinks, "he brought me back," pulled her back, the worst pain she'd ever known. Regina turns on her side and wraps Roland up, he had pulled her back, "brought back the dead," and nothing brings back the dead, but she's so, so tired, and then she's sleeping, dreamless, exhausted sleep.

* * *

Regina stares into the mirror, at her reflection and her eyes are wide.

She's never seen the deathflies on her own face before.

Granny lays a hand on Regina's back, and Regina meets her gaze in the mirror. "Can you see them?" Regina asks, and can't keep the fright out of her voice, doesn't actually try. Granny is a wolf, Regina knows it, and can sense the predator under the old woman's skin, and that's magic, a deeper magic then even Regina possesses, an ancient magic that's born of blood and bone and anguish, and maybe Granny can see them.

But Granny shakes her head, concern layered under her constricted brow and oval glasses. "What is it?" she asks, and it's gruff and her hand rubs in small circles on Regina's back.

Regina sinks down to the floor on her knees, her hands still gripping the sink edge.

Granny follows her down, and her left knee clicks, "Girl, what is it?"

"Deathflies," Regina says, what she has always called them, since she was a little girl, and breathes in, then breathes out, reminds herself that they aren't really there, aren't real, but she sees them and panic grips her.

"What is that, girl?" Granny growls, and Regina can feel the wolf under the old woman's skin bristle, and its fear the wolf is feeling.

Regina breathes in, and out, closes her eyes, "nothing," Regina answers, and she cringes, because she'd told Cora once about the deathflies, the first time she'd seen them and she had been perhaps seven years old and the maid was pale and her face was almost completely obscured by the flies and fright of the new strange thing had overcome Regina's fear of Cora. Cora had not seen anything, accused Regina of telling lies and tied her up and left her crying in the library, and the next day the maid was dead and Cora had looked at Regina long and hard.

Granny grabs Regina's arm and hauls her up, away from the mirror, she sits her down on the lip of the huge tub.

Regina opens her eyes and looks up, and Granny is watching her with narrowed eyes.

But Regina refuses to say more, tries to stand on her own and stumbles, suddenly faint and the whole room is spinning and Granny's there with an arm around her waist, "Stubborn little wretch," Granny is mumbling but Regina is overcome with fatigue and barely hears her, and she glances in the mirror as they pass and if Granny notices her flinching, she says nothing.

Granny, old and limping, helps Regina back to what Regina has supposed is Robin's room, and it's Robin's bed she's sleeping in. He's there waiting, his face drawn, and the sight of Robin brings a smile to her face, and she's practically asleep on her feet and he rushes to her side and pulls her weight against him, Regina sighs, and falls against him and he lays her down on the bed, his bed, her head hits the pillow and she's sleeping and she dreams of swarms of deathflies, her mother, and dead maids.

And nothing brings back the dead.

* * *

She wakes up abruptly, and her eyes land on Robin immediately, he's not making any noise, but his jaw is tight and his fingers twitching. He's wrapped up in a nightmare.

Regina finds Roland sleeping peacefully and she feels again what must have woken her in the first place, a ferocious tug on some conceptual part of herself she didn't realize she had, and it's Robin tugging her, and once she blinks sleep away she can almost see it, his magic in the air between them and it's wrapped around hers and his body jerks and the tug is painful this time.

Regina grits her teeth, is going to wake him, when he lurches forward in his chair gasping.

He runs his hands through his hair, and looks at her with tortured eyes before tugging on his hair so hard he might pull it out and he looks down, elbows on his knees.

"Robin," Regina says, and his head snaps up and his whole face is contorted in pain, she reaches for him and he snatches her hand in both of his, squeezing so hard it hurts and she tugs at him. He's out of the chair so fast it knocks backwards and he's got her waist wrapped up in his arms tightly, sprawling on the bed with her, and she can't breathe he's holding her so tight, he's got his head on her chest and he's shivering against her.

"I'm sorry," Regina says, and he squeezes her impossibly tighter and she gasps and pets his hair.

"For what?" he asks, and it's muffled against the borrowed shirt she wears.

Regina's eyes close, she tries to take a breath and fails, it's painful, and she deserves it, "You killed your friend," she says, bites her bottom lip and she's pulling at his hair, she smooths it down when she realizes.

"He wasn't my friend," he mutters and he shakes his head, and even if he'd hated the man it still wouldn't be worth it. She isn't worth the nightmares.

"I'm sorry," she repeats and she's sorry it's torturing him, sorry he's dreaming of it, and she isn't worth the hardship.

"I would kill anyone who tried to take you from me," he growls and he tucks his head against her, and her shirt dislodges and his cheekbone is on her sternum, his forehead against her collarbone and Regina swallows, his breath warm against her skin and she hugs him against her, and she knows she's not worth it, but she lets herself believe him, for a minute, for ten, and he falls asleep and his hold finally loosens and he's heavy on top of her, but she doesn't move him.

* * *

David brings her a gown that is clearly Snow's, but Regina has no time to request another and she pulls the pale yellow monstrosity over her head. The color makes the circles under her eyes even more evident and her hair is a mess, and the deathflies wander in lazy circles in front of her face. This is not how she wants the green bitch to see her, sloppy and obviously weak, but there is no time, and she doesn't have the strength to glamor herself up a bit. She gives Roland a kiss to the cheek where he stays sprawled on the bed, and walks unsteadily to the door, opening it with a grunt of effort, Robin and David are waiting for her.

She's got her fingertips against the wall as she tries to walk unaided, her knees buckle after two steps.

Robin catches her, and David has his hands in front of him as if he would have done the same if Robin had not been there.

"Roland?" Regina asks as Robin grips her around the ribs and around one bicep and he helps her walk.

Robin nods to Arthur, Arthur stands by what must be his room and he's got his mouth slacked open and he's looking at her with drawn brows, but Regina can't discern his thoughts.

She reaches out in a surprising bout of playfulness and taps the underside of his chin as they pass, and his mouth snaps shut.

Robin smirks beside her.

But his smirk is gone when they approach the gate, and his grip is tight around her bicep and she wonders if it's wise to have him so visible, but David is rushing them with a hand behind their backs and then it's too late, and the green bitch is smirking from beyond the crackling shield.

"Spying on me, lil sis?" the witch says, and she dumps a basket of dead birds on the ground before her, beautiful, brightly colored birds, and Regina's mask does not slip, never once looking anything but unimpressed, but an ache erupts inside her and they are just birds, but she feels like sobbing.

"And here I thought your dear step-daughter was the bird charmer," Zelena smirks, like she can see the agony she's caused under Regina's impassive stare.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	19. Chapter 19

Authors note, sweet baby messiah can I just say that every single person is amazing who is reading this, because you all are, amazing, you blow my mind thanks yall

**oh and yall be warned of sexay that quickly turns into angsty, kay?**

* * *

Snow fidgets and frowns at the dead birds, then up at Zelena, "sis?" she echoes, her head cocked.

Zelena smiles at Snow, a nasty grin on her green face, Zelena has her hand flattened against her chest, right above her heart, "Regina didn't tell you," she's tsking her tongue, shaking her head as she turns eyes to Regina, "keeping secrets again, do be careful, _dear_, your step-daughter may become wary of you."

Snow throws a glance at Regina, frown deepening, she leans towards Regina, as if that will keep the green bitch out of the conversation, "Regina, what is she talking about?"

"I'm your Auntie Zelena," the green witch says, smiling a huge predatory smile, arms opening from beyond the shield, "shall we hug?"

"What do you want?" Regina snaps, Snow is still looking at her, unasked questions boiling behind her frown, there's disappointment in Snow's eyes and anger in the tight line of her jaw.

"I came to return your little baubles, they were quite hard to catch, but I did manage," Zelena kicks one of the little birds into the shield, it's little body strikes against it, bounces back, from the point of impact a ripple conclaves across the shield in a wave, going out and out as the bird lands on the dusty ground as not a bird at all, but the earing it had once been.

"Very impressive, dear," Regina sneers, "killing small birds, how very villainous of you," Regina eyes the man who is held a little behind Zelena, held in the air by magic, lurid green smoke covering his mouth, he's got terror in his eyes.

Zelena's mouth snarls up, "Are you asking for an exhibition of my wicked ways?" she asks.

Regina snorts, "However will you top the slaughter of small birds?" Regina says, she's lightheaded, her hand wraps around Robin's on her bicep. And she knows it's a mistake instantly, and tries to take it back.

"Oh," Zelena purrs, leaning forward towards the crackling shield, it spits little stinging arcs to her but she doesn't react at all, "have you got a suitor, Regina?"

Robin's arm tightens around her waist, his hand on her arm tightens, but Regina does not let her eyes leave Zelena, she has no words, to deny whatever Robin is seems wrong, to admit she cares would be weakness. Zelena cackles theatrically, head thrown back before she snaps it back to glare at Regina, nasty smirk on those green lips, "Has no one told you, dear," she asks, "he won't buy the cow if the milk is free?"

"I'm not usually compared to farm animals," Regina says lazily back, she shrugs, "unlike yourself."

Zelena chuckles, blinks and looks away, "This shield is a lovely thing," she says, reaches out a hand and hovers it over the barrier that becomes more opaque the closer she is, "how ever did you manage it?"

Any witch with schooling would know that the shield is hundreds of years old, built into the very foundation of the castle and when Regina had been eighteen and accidently broken every single thing made of glass in her quarters Leopold, who had not been a fool, had marched her to the hidden library behind the west wing stairs and demanded she learn the activation spark, he had said she was his last, best guard against harm and to only activate the shield when his life or Snow's was in danger. And years later when she'd had him murdered in his own bed the memory had brought her no joy.

"What do you want?" Regina asks again, slower as she leans forward, her hand over Robin's again, she feels faint and her legs are almost like jelly, but she sneers and glares and Zelena purses her lips.

"Alright," she says and playfulness is gone from her expression, "no more games," she's got her intense, clear blue eyes wide, and gaze isn't quite on Regina's face, but seems to be on something _around_ her face and Regina leans back and stumbles against Robin.

"Can you see them?" Regina asks, it's a tremendous effort to make her voice steady, because she's been alone so long, seeing them and telling no one, warning no one, forever the seven year old tied up and crying with the maid dead of sickness that very night, and they came when death was near, always, every time, and the bigger the swarm, the closer the death, and it wasn't always sickness, and it wasn't everyone, but she'd always been the only one to see.

Zelena smiles, and it could be a real smile, but it looks wrong on that green face, "Of course, little sis, of course I can." Zelena tilts her head, regards Regina from head to toes and back up, "I felt it," she says, her hands draw up to her neck and she's got a confounded look on her face, "when the blade sliced," she huffs, one shoulder raised, "a horrid feeling really. And you died, Regina, I could feel you, being carried away," and Zelena looks mad with those blue, blue eyes, "those black wings."

Regina has nothing to say, staring at…at, at her _sister_, and she's heard of twins being connected, but an older and a younger sibling, that's almost unheard of, and it dimmed as you grew older and Zelena should not know these things.

Zelena turns sharply away, smirk back on her face, "and then you came _back_," she spits, flicks her hand at the floating man and he falls to the ground with a thump, he gets his legs under him and pelts away, never once looking back, Zelena watches him with her head cocked.

She looks over her shoulder at Regina, "You're more powerful than I thought," she says, looks like she'd rather be swallowing acid then admit it, and she thinks Regina had been the one to save herself and Regina is glad, won't let it show on her face, because Roland is only four years old and holds more power than anyone ever before him and he will not fall into her sisters hands, "but it doesn't matter, Regina," Zelena says and she's got her broom appearing before her with a wave of her hand, "Because I will get everything you ever had."

And she's off in the sky, riding that ludicrous broomstick, a speck, far away, in an instant.

Regina sinks to the ground, ignoring Robin's worried words, she reaches out her hands, and they pass through the barrier unscathed as she scoops the dead birds through. One by one, as they pass through the shield, they turn back into the gaudy jewelry they'd once been.

"What did she mean?" Snow asks, she's standing right behind Regina. Towering over Regina's crumpled form.

"I think even you could follow along with the conversation, dear," Regina says, she's staring down at the rings, earrings, necklaces and cuffs on the ground, she could turn them back into birds but it seems a silly thing to do now. Silly to have done it in the first place.

"You didn't say she was your sister," and that's David, accusation clear in his tone.

"I'm not convinced she is," Regina answers lazily, but it's a lie, because the bloodlocks had been opened and Zelena could see the deathflies, and no one had ever seen them before but her and Zelena had_known_, known about those unfurling black wings.

"Why are these, are these…?" Snow falters, she kneels next to Regina, grabs a necklace from the ground and she frowns at it, turning it over in her hands. "My father gave these to you," Snow looks up with narrowed eyes and Regina takes the necklace from her hand, her jaw working restlessly.

"Yes, he did," she answers.

"Why were they birds?" Snow asks, like she's dealing with a crazy person.

Regina does not care what the little girl thinks and she shrugs a shoulder, "They made very pretty birds, I would have thought you'd appreciate that." Regina finally turns her head, looks at Snow and Snow is biting her lip, she's got her scrunched up thinking face on, the same face she used to wear when Regina tried to teach her any sort of math.

"Don't hurt yourself," Regina says, the soft smile that touches her lips is involuntary, it hurts, and it hurts worse when Snow smiles back, and it had been a game back when they were girls, Regina would boop Snow's nose whenever she wore that scrunched up face, because Leopold said a princess must always look regal, Regina would tell the girl 'don't hurt yourself' and it was Regina's very own way of calling Snow stupid, and the girl just smiled back.

Regina drops the necklace to the ground, leaves it there, and turns on her knees, raises her arms to Robin, he comes and helps her up immediately. His care, _him_, he fills her with warmth, his presence, his help, and it's too good, he is to good, and she'll have to stop him, stop this, whatever this is, but not now, and she lets him wrap an arm around her waist as they walk inside the castle. Snow is left on the ground, with David crouching beside her, holding her step-mothers old and unwanted shackles in her hands.

* * *

Regina wakes up, and hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep.

She feels like she's dying, sick and weak, she remembers the deathflies, had Roland saved her for only a time? She thinks it is more and more likely.

And she wants to weep. But won't, can't...she _won't_.

She's again in Robin's bed, wrapped up in a blanket that smells of him, but instead of Robin or Roland, or the increasingly more tolerable presence of Granny, there is Friar Tuck kneeling beside the bed. The man of God has his elbows by her waist, his hands around each other up towards the ceiling and his eyes are closed. He's praying with a rosary swinging from his hands.

Regina looks towards the door, wonders how fast she can get there, and the answer is not very.

She looks into herself, at her magic, and wonders if she could immobilize him, not kill, but stop, and the answer is again not very promising.

Tom was his brother.

She closes her eyes, her whole face screws up. She will not cry.

He'd come to finish it, she supposes, but she will not let this fat Friar take the life Roland fought so hard to save.

"Friar Tuck," she says, voice like gravel, he flinches, elbows off the bed in a second as he looks down at her and he bites his lips. His eyes race across her face and Regina can tell by his expression that she looks as awful as she feels.

"Your Majesty," he says, bowing his head.

And then he says nothing, kneeling before her. She's curled up on her side in the bed and just looking at him, waiting for him to attack, but it goes on and on and on, silence, until he finally swallows.

"I ask you for forgiveness," he says.

Regina's eyes widen, shock running through her, then she takes a breath, her eyes narrow and she waits.

And thankfully she does not have to wait long, he looks up at her, with haunted eyes, his eyes are on her neck, and though there is no wound any longer, she knows he has a vision of blood and bone and muscle, he blanches, "Forgive me, I knew of what my brother was capable and I did nothing."

Regina does not speak.

The Friar fidgets, "Your Majesty, please, he was my kin, my only blood."

Regina is not some cathedral, a place for him to come and lay his guilt, she is no priest, has no power to promise away his sins, yet he kneels before her and asks her forgiveness, she could laugh, she could _weep_, it's foolish and heavy and it is not her burden, his pain, the guilt he deserves, it's not her burden.

She stares at him, and _he_ begins to weep, laying his head on the bed, his shoulders shaking, the whole bed moves with his consuming grief.

"My brother," he cries, he shakes, "Your Majesty, forgive me, forgive me, please, he was my blood."

Zelena comes to her thoughts, the dead birds, her wicked grin and blue eyes, the red hair, and Zelena resembles Cora more strongly than Regina ever did, the bitch is green and still achieves it. Regina saw Cora looking at her from time to time, a frown on her face and she told her once, with disdain, that Regina had gotten her father's coloring and she wonders if Cora knew what the alternative could have been and she wants to weep and she wants to laugh.

She lays a gentle hand on the crown of Friar Tucks head, refuses to speak of any forgiveness, but she touches him softly and his sobs subside and it must be a terrible thing, to need absolution from the Evil Queen.

Robin walks in then, as her hand is held atop Friar Tuck's greasy hair. Robin stills in the door, a frozen moment before he's comes over, stands behind the still crying man and grips his shoulders, "Tuck," he says, hauling the man up and towards the door, looking over his shoulder at Regina. She has no smile for him, no reassurance, nothing but a tormented look at the Friar's back.

When Robin returns Regina has plied herself up in sitting position, taking deep breaths and she's only a little dizzy.

"What did he want?" he asks, he sits facing her on the edge of the bed, reaches for her hand.

She lets out a breath, a mocker of a smile on her face, "forgiveness," she says with a shake of her head, her thumb running over his knuckles, a motion she doesn't even think about.

He squeezes her hand before he stands, stomps over to the drawers and picks up a little toy of Roland's, plays with it restlessly, "Did you give it to him?" he asks.

"He doesn't need it," she answers. She takes a deep breath and pushes from the bed, she stands on wobbly legs, walks towards him and when she's close enough she wraps her arms around his middle, her face tucked against his back, touching him comes so easily. She sighs as his magic seeps into her, a balm for her entire aching self.

He turns around in her arms, smirking down at her, his magic gives her a tug, magic the same color as hers. She shouldn't be so close to him. His gaze lowers to her lips. She shouldn't be so close to him.

She kisses him, pulling him down to her with two fistfuls of his shirt.

He stands for a moment, hands by his side, she's afraid she's misread him, has put meaning where there never was any and its better this way, she shouldn't do this, not with him, not with anyone, it is weakness. She's already pulling away when he finally moves. His hands land on her hips, grip tight and he forces her mouth open with his tongue, he kisses like there is no guarantee of tomorrow, it's heavy breaths and greedy lips, it's wet and sinfully wonderful.

Robin has a hand at the back of her head, he holds her in place with a handful of her hair, gentle grip, secure grip, but she's never felt so wanted, it's a rush, an absolute rush and with Graham it had never been real, he'd held her and devoured her mouth but there was no passion, passion was all Robin gave and his mouth on hers has her drowning in magic. It's a boon to her, and sickness fades, for a minute.

Regina moans into his mouth, a deep throaty moan that she can't contain, he tears away, staring at her with intense, lust filled eyes. He backs her into the wall and she lets him. She grunts at the impact of her back meeting the hard stone and then his mouth is on hers again, his hands rub up and down her sides, squeezing and smoothing, and touching her everywhere he can reach. The back of her head rests against the stone as he attacks her mouth, his hips holding hers in place, his hand runs over her hip and down her thigh until he hooks it on the underside of her knee. He draws it up, pushing impatiently at the fabric until it's her skin he can feel and he squeezes with his grip on her thigh as he presses against her. He's already hard, she can feel him through his trousers, she gasps, and he presses against her panting, "God Regina," he grunts, "look what you do to me, god."

She smiles and pulls his shirt untucked and runs her hands under it, over his hard abdomen, his stomach that ripples under her touch and he groans, right next to her ear. She's breathing hard.

"Come here," he says, a hand in her hair again, his mouth on her neck, he's biting her and sucking and kissing and he pulls her from the wall, easing her to the bed as she's moves her hands to his back, and all of him is lean, hard muscle under her fingers.

He sits, draws her down to straddle him, there is no hesitance from her, she goes willingly, greedily, his trousers are scratchy against the inside of her thighs. Robin bunches the material of her skirt up over her hips and has his hands running all over her legs, she presses against him, she's already soaking wet for him and throbbing and she can feel his hard length under her and she rocks against him, moaning, she can't seem to stop moaning.

Their first kiss only moments ago and here they are, but intimacy has been there, his care had been there, Regina wants this, him, badly, so achingly badly.

Robin pulls the practically _demure_ neckline of the borrowed dress down, hot wet breath against her collar bone and there's the sound of ripping fabric but he doesn't stop, just ducks his head lower and has a nipple in his mouth as soon as her breasts spill out of the ruined dress. He groans, one hand flat against her back, the other is gripping her ass and she rocks harder against him, her hands on his shoulders, nails biting through his shirt.

"Robin," she says breathlessly, and throws back her head, she gasps as he bucks against her.

"Say it again," he urges.

The urge to not do as he says runs through her, but then his attention is again at her breasts, which had always been sensitive and he bites at her nipple, lightly, his name comes out of her mouth unbidden at that.

She can feel him grinning, his mouth against her breast, before he flips them, and she's flat on her back on the bed, and he's heavy and large and it's like the whole room is filled up by him, he's all she can see for a moment and it starts to feel too much, and she doesn't want him on top of her, not like this, and she cannot breath. He leans back, on his knees between her legs and he's breathing heavily, has a hand on each of her bent knees. And that's better, that's much, much better and Regina draws in a ragged breath.

She squirms under his stare, but doesn't close her legs or try and calm her needy, panting breaths.

"Take off the dress," he says, his voice is strained, like he's holding himself back.

Regina scoots away from him to sit up and his hands fall to her ankles, but he doesn't let them go as she pulls the ruined dress over her head.

His mouth opens, and his gaze goes all the way down her body, her lips, her neck, a good amount of time on her breasts, and then it's down her stomach and he's staring intently at her smallclothes. He moves forward again, easing the last covering off of her, his mouth on hers and he forces her back down to the bed, his hands on her breasts, kneading and grasping and Regina arches her back up into his palms. And it's fine, she thinks, closes her eyes and breathes in, this is fine, it's only Robin.

"You're beautiful, do you even know, gods," he says when he tears himself away. Her fingers are threaded through his hair as he crawls down her form, hands on her thighs and he opens them further, and when she feels his hot, heavy breathing under her belly button she tries to pull him back up.

He hisses, stops and kisses her belly softly, "I want to taste you, I want to make you scream," and he's looking at her and he's got earnest eyes but no one had ever…she'd never had anyone-

"It'll feel good," he says, like he knows what's holding her back, and when he moves again she lets him, fingers falling from his hair and gripping the bedsheets on either side of her instead, he leaves wet kisses down her thighs, open mouthed kisses, down one calf and then back up and then he's looking at her from between her thighs. He's holding them open and she can feel that horrible smirk against her thigh and he slips two finger inside of her.

She breathes in, she's so, so wet already, wet for him, but he doesn't say anything about it, pumping slowly in then out as he's kissing her thigh softly.

He's doing something amazing with those fingers, a moan slips past her lips. She squirms.

He adds another finger, pumps faster and she strains out a choked moan, "You can take it," he whispers up at her, she tilts her head to look at him, he's smiling at her, those kind eyes have never looked softer, she feels cared for as she's being thoroughly finger fucked, she lets her head fall back again, he can't see her frown. "Take it for me, you're so beautiful, Regina." When he swipes his tongue against her clit, and it feels so good, she gasps, can't help it when she bucks against his face.

And she has been fucked, and she has fucked, but this isn't _fucking_ and she doesn't know what this is. Leopold had come to her once when she was absolutely swollen, rotund, with her last pregnancy and he'd ran his hands all over her with wonder in his eyes and 'a boy' he kept repeating, smiling at her, 'a boy', and he'd been gentle and loving and he'd kissed her and he'd cried out _her_ name when he came and that's as close to this as she has and it's wrong, it feels disgusting and wrong and she isn't made for whatever _this_ is.

Robin flicks his tongue back and forth over her clit and she slams her eyes shut, cries out and her hands are in his hair, and it feels too good, those pumping fingers, that devilish tongue, it feels incredible. It feels _too_ good. It shouldn't feel this way. She gasps, scuttles up the bed away from him and he follows after her until she realizes she's still got his hair in her grip and she pushes away from him.

Robin looks up at her, blinking and then his brows instantly constrict in concern. "What's wrong?" he asks, he tries to wrap her up in his arms but his right hand is sticky with her own wetness and she pushes his hands away frantically. She moves closer to the head of the bead.

"Regina," he says and she realizes her cheeks are wet, when she raises her hands to them it's only then she realizes she's crying, tears leaking out of her eyes and her breath is hitching in her throat, "Regina, did I hurt you?" and he looks startled and so, so guilty already but _it's all her fault_.

"No," she tells him, shaking her head, she wraps her arms around herself, covers her breasts. "No," she sobs out and turns her face away from him. "I'm fine."

He moves closer, tucks hair over her shoulder and she will not cry in front of him, is using everything in her to contain herself but he wraps his arms around her, running his hands up and down her back, "I'm sorry," he says.

She grabs a fistful of the shirt he still wears, he's still fully dressed and she can see his tented trousers, "You didn't hurt me," she tells him, and she takes a deep breath, straightens her spine and climbs into his lap.

"Don't," Robin tells her, moves her right back off, and he's grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around her.

"You don't want me?" she says and she's shaking and he can't possibly not want her, her body is beautiful, she knows that, she knows it.

"Of course I want you," he says, hands on either side of her face and he makes her look at him, "I want you so badly, Regina, all the time, every minute," Regina lets out a shaky breath, stares at him, "all of you," he says, "all of you, not just your horribly tempting body."

She guffaws brokenly, and ignores how close it sounds to a sob, and he's a fool, just a fool and he doesn't know what he's saying, could not possibly want all of her, no one ever could, and he'll see one day, but it's not today, and he draws her into his embrace and she falls willingly.


	20. Chapter 20

Robin rubs her back in circles and the instant she falls asleep, he knows, her body relaxed, a comfortable weight half on top of him. He swallows and looks up at the ceiling, his jaw stiff, his dick still throbbing with need for her, but the sight of her tear streaked face, turning away in shame, it has him desperately sad, and filled with rage.

What has been done too her, he wonders, but he dare not think too hard, because he at least knows some of the answer; she had been called The Child Queen. There's a bad taste in his mouth at the thought, he's seething, he squeezes her a little. The blanket slips down her bare shoulder.

He tucks it back up and shifts her so he can look at her, at her beautiful face, he puts her on her back beside him. She grumbles before settling, hair spread upon the pillow behind her. Robin bites his lips, turns away, shaking his head, she is still ill.

She is still ill, in need of care and tending to.

Regina had kissed him though, Robin stands from the bed, fingers tugging at his hair, he had known she was ill but thought and reason had flown straight out the window at the feel of her lips against his. He had wanted and wanted for so long, to feel her, warm and alive, her hands running over him, he had wanted and wanted to hear her moan and whimper and sigh, she was soft, so soft, his fingers twitch remembering the softness of her. The dark circles under her eyes remain, and she looks almost ashen, she'd been asleep on her feet when he'd helped her back after the encounter with the witch.

He moves to the foot of the bed, leans down on the bed frame, grips it with both hands, white knuckled, staring at Regina, the blanket has slipped again, she's curled onto her side with her knees drawn up, the blanket is down to her waist, her breasts beautiful and free to his gaze.

Robin turns away, eyes slammed shut, she is beautiful, so beautiful and the feel of her body, all her curves free to his hands, the taste of her in his mouth, her panting breath and weight grinding down on him, it's playing through his mind and he wants her so badly, so, so badly, more now than ever before.

But her hiccupping breath, her hands pushing him away, they haunt him and he feels guilt, she said he had not hurt her, and perhaps not, but she was obviously in pain.

Always in pain, she was always in pain, he could see it in those dark eyes and even when she smiled she was in pain, if he could take it all away, he would, all her pain, every last drop of torment and he would destroy it, but he can't, and it leaves him feeling useless and afraid.

He is afraid all the time, afraid now for Roland, the sweet boy with his magic, magic strong enough to bring back the dead. Robin had looked and looked for a way to bring back Marian, he knows better than anyone, he knows that magic cannot bring back the dead, but Roland had done it. Robin knows all magic has a price, the sweet boy had brought Regina back and Regina called him powerful, Robin thinks that's not even the half of it, and it makes him afraid. Not of the boy, never of the boy.

And he is afraid for Regina, he remembers the pull in his chest, the painful tug and then Regina's panic, the panic fit that had Robin running to her, she had seen a man in her panic, and Robin had seen it with her. He had seen the man, the man had a vicious grin, he flipped a switch and Regina screamed and screamed, pain beyond telling, the man smelled her hair and called her evil and she'd believed him, she believed him and had thought it was right for her to have that pain. And when Tom had a knife at her throat, she had not looked frightened, it makes Robin so, so afraid.

He is afraid even to close his eyes, and _this_ is the fear that eats him alive, the fear he denies existence but it is there, because every time he closes his eyes it is Tom staring back at him.

Tom, who had loved to laugh, Tom, who had been a violent boy and he'd tortured a rabbit once, Robin had not confronted him then and he should have, but he hadn't and years later Tom was a man and it was a guard being slaughtered in the most torturous way and Robin had still done nothing, and then, Tom's final act, it was Regina in her puddle of blood, dead, she was dead just like Marian, her throat slit open and her sightless eyes pointing up, up, and it had been Robin's fault, for not stopping Tom torturing that rabbit.

Robin walks to the door, opens it, quietly shuts it and then he is pounding his right fist against the stone wall, over and over and over, his eyes slammed shut. Tuck is speaking with Arthur by Arthur's door, Tuck who had asked for Regina's forgiveness and she had lain her hand on the crown of his head with sunlight streaming in through the window, Tuck left the room weeping, but it should be Robin asking forgiveness, because of that stupid little rabbit and the boy Tom with bright hazel eyes who'd grown into a man who loved to laugh and Robin should have stopped him, should have stopped it.

There is no pain, there is no noise, and he slams his knuckles against the stone over and over until a large hand grabs his shoulder and turns him, grabs him and shakes him harshly. Robin is panting and looking up at John, John has worried eyes, deep worry, his hands still holding Robin's shoulders, looking at Robin with concern and Robin just stands there panting.

Granny looks on; a tray with food on it held in her hands, her granddaughter stands next to her, her mouth slack jawed looking at him. Robin does not know the granddaughter well, Robin blinks at them both blankly. Granny gives the tray to her granddaughter, approaches Robin with her hands raised, John lets his grasp drop from Robin's shoulders.

"Are you alright?" Granny asks, she's staring up into his eyes and it takes a moment for her question to make any sense to him. He nods.

She looks down at his hand, reaches out and grabs his wrist and pulls it up, her eyebrows raised, and Robin hisses, pain awakening, he's broken it, mangled it.

"Come on," Granny says, ushers him down the hall but he plants his feet, looking at the closed door behind him.

"Regina," he says and he gestures with his uninjured hand, but Granny shakes her head.

"She's sleeping?" the old woman asks.

Robin nods.

"She won't even know you've been gone," Granny tells him, but looks over her shoulder at her granddaughter, "we'll leave Ruby, to make sure she's not bothered," Granny proposes and she bundles Robin off with a strength he hadn't known she had.

And Robin is afraid, and he's tired, and he's broken his hand.

* * *

Regina is not in his room when he returns.

He runs across the hall to Arthur's room, pounds on the door and when Arthur answers Robin has his uninjured hand gripping the man's collar, he asks "Where is she? Where is she?!"

"She went to her room," Arthur tells him, and Robin steps back as if slapped. Robin shakes his head, and stomps off.

Arthur follows for a bit, tries to hold him back, but Robin pushes him away, only a step and Arthur lets him go after that.

He opens her door so forcefully that it bounces off the wall, she startles; she's standing across the room on the balcony. "Robin, what is it?" she asks, walking towards him and putting her hands on his chest. "What happened to your hand?" she asks, shrill and she looks up at him, down at his bandaged limb and back.

"I…" and now Robin is unsure, because he had thought she'd left him, and how could she, and she can do whatever she likes, but they are a pair and he had killed for her and he would die for her and Roland had saved her, but it doesn't look that way anymore, and she's looking up in confusion and concern and his anger fades away and he grabs her hands off his chest and cradles them, "What are you doing here?"

"A ripped dress," a smirk races across her face, under those concerned eyes, "and Little John's shirt were hardly wardrobe fit for a Queen," she tells him and he looks down at her body for the first time, she's wearing a dark dress, it's bodice tight against her, a skirt that swishes to the floor. "What happened to your hand?" she repeats and one hand comes up to cup his jaw.

He shakes his head, "An accident," he lies, and she looks doubtful. "You're feeling better?" he asks, and plays with her fingers gently.

Her head tilts to the side, a vague frown on her lips, "yes," she lies, and he puts his good hand on the back of her neck, gripping softly.

"Will you return to your own chambers?" he asks, and she swallows, indecision crosses her face.

"I don't know," she tells him, doesn't look him in the eye.

He doesn't think he could bear to be away from her, not after having her sleep beside him, warm and soft, perfect against is side, their breaths soft and easy. But he would never force her hand.

Robin kisses her, _feelings_ welling in his chest, he could not bear her absence, she gasps as he deepens the kiss, hand knotted in her hair. She responds to him, tongue and lips, she bites his bottom lip and drags as he backs her up until she hits her vanity, all the little glass bottles rattling against each other, the furniture skidding backward. She's grasping at his shoulders. When he pulls back, his hand still at the nape of her neck, he leans his forehead against hers.

She swallows, steps away from him, stepping away from the vanity, and the little bottles rattle again as she steps quick little strides away, "What are we doing?" she asks.

Robin doesn't have an eloquent answer for that, "I care about you," he tells her, walks up to her and she lets him, he does more than care, but he is not ready, and she is not ready, and he has known her for so little time, but he feels more than _care_.

"Why?" she breathes, and looks up at him, craning her neck to do so, she looks absolutely confounded.

Robin licks his lips, he stares at her, into her big dark eyes, "It's like I lost something," he tells her, takes a another step forward and she raises her hand and puts it flat on his chest, and when he still walks forward she takes a step back, "and when I hold you, it's like I've gotten it back," he says and he keeps walking until her back hits the wall. Her breath stutters and her splayed hand is still on his chest, he leans forward, his mouth by her ear and he nuzzles her hair, "and when I had my fingers inside you," he whispers, she shudders, "and you were writhing and moaning my name, it was like I'd found my home," and it's all the truth, he'd never felt that way before, like something alive was swimming in his veins, something hot and powerful and it burned for her, ached for her.

He kisses her again, her back against the wall and her hands in his hair, he feels it again, the sense of home, of fire in his veins, and she's perfect against him. He gropes her breasts through her dress with his one good hand, can't seem to resist, tugs her hair and her mouth is perfect, and her body is perfect and when he bites her neck, hard enough to leave a mark she pushes her hips out to meet his and he grunts.

Robin pulls his mouth away, breathing heavy, their hips still pressed against each other, his erection hard between them, he looks down at her and he smiles, presses one peck, closed mouth, to her lips and then steps away.

"You are always welcome wherever I am," he says to her. Her mouth opens softly, she's remains leaning back against the wall, "my chambers, my table, all that I have, you are welcome too," he vows, and she's staring at him still, as if she has never seen anything like him, "and if you wish to remain in your own chambers, know that it will not stop me from caring for you."

She looks at him, shaking her head softly as he turns and leaves her chambers.

That night there is a soft knock on Robin's door, he calls a 'come in' and Roland is cuddled beside him, listening to his bedtime story, the boy smiles wildly when he sees Regina. Regina smiles softly back. She looks hesitant, walking to the bed Robin and Roland recline on, she's wearing a robe and when she pulls it off she's got a nightgown on underneath, airy and white, light, she climbs onto the bed next to Roland, and the boy instantly turns his affections to her.

The boy is already half asleep, and even with the excitement of Regina's arrival he is sleeping within five minutes. The boy does not stir at all as Robin picks him up and carries him to his own room.

When Robin returns to her, Regina looks up biting her lips at him, still in the bed, the bed she'd lain naked on, naked and panting, his fingers inside her, his tongue on her clit. Robin lowers the lamps and goes to the bed and wraps her up in his arms, tucking her against him, he kisses her hair, "Sleep," he tells her and she lets out a broken breath and he holds her in the dark and pretends not to notice her crying.

But it's not much longer until she's got his hurt hand, and Roland had asked, shyly, nervously, if Robin wanted him to heal it, but the boy still hadn't gotten all his color back since healing Regina, bringing her back to life, and Robin had told him not to worry. But Regina has it in her gentle grasp, she does not ask, she unfurls the bandages in the dark and when it's open to the air she brings it to her lips over and over, kisses and after every touch the pain subsides, not completely, but bit by bit, but she is still ill, worse off than Roland, Robin only allows a little while before he tugs his hand free, only a little while but the bones are knitted, he is all but healed, "Thank you," he whispers as he runs his fingers through her hair, soft long hair, she sighs and relaxes against him and she is perfect against him as her breaths even, as her body grows lax, she's warm and soft, and Robin falls asleep with a grin.

He wakes in the night, gasping, a nightmare, Tom's booming laugh, a dagger in his belly, Marian, with blood out of her mouth and Regina, staring up and up. Regina mumbles his name as he clutches her tightly; she pulls herself up and kisses him softly, murmuring comforting nonsense to him, not completely awake. He falls back asleep holding her tightly, heart racing, the vanilla smell of her hair surrounding him.

Robin wakes in the morning with her against his shoulder and she is warm and alive and soft next to him and he gathers her up in his arms, she does not wake, even when he turns her body over and crushes her back to his chest, spooning her, their knees tucked up together and he's got his nose buried in her hair. He closes his eyes, breathing her in, and she is safe and she is warm, and he's woken up to the sight of her beautiful face and it feels right, absolutely right.

No one will ever take this from him, no one.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	21. Chapter 21

**Smutty smutty, it's sexay (and then intense)**

She starts shifting, waking up and Robin keeps her right where she is, pressed against him entirely, her back to his front, she tenses for a moment, moving her head as much as she can, just a moment and then she relaxes against him again, not quite snuggling, because Robin is sure she would not appreciate that word choice, but she moves further into him with a sigh.

Robin smirks; kisses the back of her neck, "Good morning," he says and her hands come to rest over his own around her waist.

Regina is not completely awake and she mumbles out something that sounds vaguely like a greeting.

"I said good morning," Robin chirps and he starts sucking at her pulse point, grazing it with his teeth, pecking it with closed lips and she sighs again.

"Good morning," she finally grumbles and side eyes him when he lifts his head to look at her, and his smirk grows larger, and he returns his attentions to her neck, long minutes spent there, then down to where her nightgown has slipped down her shoulder, and when he nips, harder than before, at the junction between her neck and shoulder, she gasps and her ass grinds down on the erection he'd woken up with.

He groans, his hands slide up her stomach, her ribs, the nightgown wrinkling and bunching up until he's cupped a breast in each hand, "Alright?" he asks her, pumps his hips against her ass and she nods.

"You feel so marvelous," he tells her, whispers it right into her ear as he's massaging her breasts, she turns her head and he kisses her cheek before straining his neck and capturing her mouth, her perfect lips in a kiss that leaves him breathless, and his hips still move against her, he can feel the hard peaks of her nipples through her nightgown and it's with a growl that he pulls the fabric up, bunching it almost to her neck until his hands can get under it and at her smooth, soft skin.

She moans, moves her hand up behind her and into his hair, she snags a handful and pulls his mouth back down and she kisses him like she's drowning, he pinches her nipples between his fingers and relishes the sharp breath it draws from her and her lips leave his, her eyes closed, her mouth open and he's put that expression on her face and it drives him mad.

"Is it alright?" he gasps and one hand leaves her breasts, travels down her stomach, and he's got his hand flat, just below her belly button, the tips of his fingers a centimeter away from her folds and he wants to feel the wetness there, desperately wants to feel her.

Regina nods, and he extends his middle finger, runs it through her folds, over her clit, and she moans a sharp little moan, and then he's got it hooked inside her, and she's soaking wet and he groans, his mouth on her shoulder, he pumps once, twice, and then out, and it's slick and wet and he moves back to her clit, running the pad of his finger over the hard little nub slowly, up and down, up and down and she strains against him, her legs widening as he puts one of his knees between hers, to make room for his hand and he's still moving his hips lazily against her ass, her breath is heavy, her eyes tightly shut.

"Does it feel good?" he asks her and he remembers last time, when he'd been sure she was enjoying him, his tongue and fingers, and she'd cried out and bucked against his face, and it had turned so quickly and so drastically and he will not make the mistake again, he'll keep her here, with him, his voice in her ear.

She grabs his wrist, and he's afraid she'll pull his hand away, but she grips it tightly, and nods, her eyes still shut, "Tell me," he says to her, nips her again.

"It feels good," she tells him, groans when he presses harder down on her clit.

And he works on her, murmuring into her hair, biting and sucking and kissing, groping her breast with one hand, other between her legs until she's panting against him, and she can't control the movement of her hips, sweat on her brow and he knows she's close, but he wants more, more of her and this, undone, and his finger leaves her clit, and she sighs in exasperation before he hooks two fingers inside her, she lets out a sharp cry, and each time he leaves her and slams back in she cries out again, sharp little moans and they go straight to his dick and he presses her back against him tighter and he wants to be inside of her so badly, she comes with a long moan, her nose scrunched up and her head thrown back and he's watching, enraptured, her whole body trembles against him, her legs tightening on his hand but he keeps working on her clit until she pulls on his wrist and she's a panting, moaning mess.

He kisses her cheek and she turns her head to catch his lips with hers instead and then she's twisting, climbing on top of him, straddling him and she's breathtaking as she sweeps the nightgown off, panting still, her tits moving with each breath and her weight on him.

"You're so beautiful," he tells her, runs his hands up her sides and she wears a grin that is both doubtful and prideful in the same instant. She pulls him up to sitting, kisses him, and his fingers dig into her hips.

"Do you want me?," she asks him, and she's got her hands running over his stomach, up to his chest and she tugs until he raises his arms and she rips his shirt over his head.

He bucks up to meet her, his dick straining and hard and he needs her, to be inside her, "Badly," he groans out and she's running her hands, small warm hands, over his chest, to his back, down to his stomach, and he wants to flip her and take her, fuck her until she screams but he'd seen the unease the last time he had her on her back, and he'll have her everyway eventually, the thought has him groaning.

But her face has fallen, the smirk gone and her eyes widened, its panic on her face.

"What?" he asks her, and he reaches to circle her waist and she flinches away from him, flinches to the left so violently that she falls off the bed.

"Regina!" he calls and rushes over and down onto the floor and she's scuttling away from him, standing and grabbing her robe, pulling it on and she's shaking her head.

"What is it?" Robin asks her, watching her and the panic doesn't lessen, not a bit and she tries to edge around him to the door. He moves to block her, but does not touch her, "Regina," he calls, and she shakes her head like she's shaking his voice away, "Regina, what happened?"

And she looks up at him, like she's never seen him before, and it's horror and panic and sorrow, all mishmashed together on her beautiful face and her hands fly from her robe, up into the air and she's gone in a cloud of purple smoke.

Robin blinks, and he watches the place she'd last been, as if he can wish her back, but she doesn't come back.

* * *

Roland looks at his father with his head tilted, "Papa, where's Regina?" he asks and looks behind Robin as if the woman is hiding behind him.

Robin's jaw clenches and he grimaces a smile for the boy, "She had something to do," he tells the boy and the boy frowns, deeply frowns, and his little brow lowers in a glare.

"Papa, you're lying."

"Let's get some food in you," Robin says and picks the child up and they go to breakfast but the boy keeps asking after Regina.

The boy has a bite halfway to his mouth when his head cocks to the side, and his fork drops to the table with a clatter.

"Papa," he cries, and he spins to face Robin, "Papa, I think you need to find her."

Robin wraps his arm around him, "You can find her?" he asks, hope inside him, because there are so many places for her to hide in this castle, her chambers were empty, her favorite library empty.

Roland shakes his head, "You can Papa," the boy says and Robin exhales a deep breath, shaking his head, hand rubbing over his face.

"I've looked, my boy, she's nowhere," and it comes out angry, and he is angry, and worried, and afraid, and she had run from him, again.

Roland shakes his head wildly, and he's got shifty eyes, wide and he looks so afraid, looking to and fro around the dining chamber and briefly at the spot where Regina had died, and he'd purposefully stepped around where she had bled out when they'd entered, "Papa, I think you really need to find her," he says again and now it's a high pitched sort of panic in his voice.

"Roland," Robin breathes and he grabs the boys shoulders and twists him on the bench, "What is it? Roland?"

The boy swallows, ducks his head, and he's trembling, "Papa, the shield just came down," and he's whispering and afraid, "you really, really need to find her."

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	22. Chapter 22

**It gets intense yall, but not sexay intense, like mentally traumatic intense, ye be warned**

* * *

The lion tattoo.

Regina sees it on his wrist, and it is just the same as she remembers.

Her eyes widen in horror, her breath leaving her in a huge, desperate whoosh.

Soul mate, a voice whispers and it is Tinkerbell's voice, a happy ending she'd said, smile on her pretty face.

Regina shakes her head and when the tattoo and the arm it's drawn on try to embrace her she needs distance and isn't even thinking, just needs to get away, and she falls straight off the bed in her attempt for space.

Her supposed soul mate with the lion tattoo, and it can't be him, it can't, but she can remember that tattoo clear as day and it is the same, it had seared in her memory, and she's just ridden his fingers to orgasm, had slept beside him through the night and Graham had never slept beside her, and the knights and guards who she had fucked had never slept beside her, and Leopold always sent her away after coming inside her, and Robin's voice is concerned, but she can't hear the words.

Soul mate.

Regina shakes her head again and claws at her robe, ties it about herself in jerky movements

happy

And she can't breathe, can't think,

soul mate

she needs to get away, she needs to get away from him and his words and his eyes and his body and his dick is hard, standing straight out and she was going to ride him, make him scream for her, have him come inside her and she was going to let him have her, had come the night before to do just that but he had kissed her hair and told her 'sleep' and held her and she had felt safe, and cared for

soul mate

and she had never healed anyone other than herself before but she'd raised his mangled hand to her lips and kissed it and she'd healed him and he had held her

happy

but she can't be happy, not without Henry, her baby, Roland could have been her baby

"Regina!" Robin is frightened and she looks up at his face, at his handsome face, and she could have had him then, could have had Roland, a boy like Roland who smiled and loved her, and perhaps back then she could have been happy,

A whole life twists and turns before her eyes and Tinkerbell had said she'd ruined his chance for happiness as much as her own, but he had had a wife, a beautiful wife wearing lilac, a wife with dark eyes and she'd given him a child with dark eyes and he was happy, with his son at least, and Marian is dead, with blood streaming from her mouth and Regina had seen into his heart that day in the Weeping when his magic had poured inside her, rushed inside to fill her when she'd been so close to dying, and she knows the pain of losing Marian will never fade, but Roland remains, and Tinkerbell was wrong, he was happy with his boy.

Regina raises her hands when it's obvious he will not let her leave through the door and no destination is in her head, a dangerous thing, a thing that will splice you, or have you end up stuck half in a wall, but her only thought is to escape him and his concern and the happy life she could have led, and she's enveloped in the cloud, is in the inbetween, and then she appears at least five feet off the ground, and she crashes to the floor with absolutely no grace, and no bracing and she lands heavy on one knee, on her elbows, and then her face crashes to the floor and she lays there, and the pain helps her blink away the terror and panic and whatever else has consumed her.

She takes deep breathes, laying exactly as she'd fallen on the cold floor and her nose is bleeding, her cheek stinging but she does not move, and the room is dark, covered in thick dust and cold, and she's appeared in Leopold's old chambers and she has not been here since the night before she'd had the genie kill him, and he had backed her to the wall and held her diary in her face before throwing it away and he'd taken her on the floor, grunting, growling 'my wife,' into her ear, 'you are my wife' but she had not cried, she had not cried for years.

She passes out on that dust covered floor

* * *

"Regina?"

There's a tingling sensation at the tips of her fingers and toes, but she cannot move her body, and its magic holding her in place.

Hands are on her, turning her over, and the effort it takes to open her eyes is colossal, and it's Snow's sweet face above her, pinched in concern, fright in her eyes, and Regina's face is tacky with half dried blood and her cheek feels horribly swollen and she cannot move.

She has no idea how long she's been on the floor.

Snow holds an hourglass in her hand, a small thing, about the size of the time turner for Scattagories, and that was Henry's favorite game, the hourglass is filled with blood.

Regina eyes widen, and she thinks of Leopold and he had read her diaries through their whole marriage and she'd known and never written anything she didn't want him to know, but it was an invasion all the same, and the hourglass is a worse one.

"Snow," Regina gasps out, and the tingling has extended to her arms and legs and the blood inside the hourglass starts to shine a soft glow. Regina tries to fight, uses everything in her, but a sacrifice had been made, and that is blood magic, and Regina will not win the fight, but she tries, and tries and this is one awful thing after another and she cannot take it.

The girl smooths hair off of Regina's face, where it has stuck in the half dried blood and she smiles, "It's alright," she says, and she sounds so sure, and so soothing, and she has a sweet voice, "Regina, it's alright."

"Stupid…" and Regina gasps, the tingling in her chest, and Snow gasps too, and her hands are on her own chest, "stupid gi-"

* * *

"-rl," and Regina falls to her knees, and they are in her childhood room, a huge room, no toys, and the fluctuating wail of a small child, the thwick of a switch, is heard but Regina does not turn to look.

Snow gasps beside her, the hourglass drips one drop of blood down, "What have you done?" Regina says, and looks up at Snow, and Snow's got her hand over her mouth, horror in her eyes and there's the sound, the thwick, of the switch coming down, the crack of it meeting skin, and the piercing wail of a little girl, and Snow begins to cry and makes as if to walk forward and Regina grabs a hold of Snow's wrist.

"What did you ask it?" Regina growls, and Snow looks down at her then to the hourglass, and where did she get it, the fairies don't deal in Dark Magic.

"I," and Snow flinches as the switch comes down again,

"I'm sorry, mama!" the child wails.

"If you'd help your sister," Snow says.

"She intends to destroy me!" Regina says, uses her grip on Snow to haul herself up and she crowds the girl, and the girl is actually a bit taller than her but she backs her up, physically intimidates her, "You stupid girl!" and Regina pushes Snow, both hands against her shoulders and Snow falls several steps back.

The room blurs away and the nursery is gone and replaced with the parlor of her childhood home, and Regina sees a dark haired child sitting at the desk, hair in a braid and she spins the other way, closes her eyes.

The child sobs, and the child's father kneels beside her, "You must try harder," he tells her, the weak, stupid, loving man.

"Daddy," the girl hiccups, "help me," she begs, pleads, desperate, she'd been stuck to the seat of her chair until she can write the alphabet front to back, back to front, and the child is five years old.

"Sshhhh, my darling, try hard, you'll get it, my darling."

And time speeds up and the father leaves and the sun light disappears and the child squirms on the chair and soils herself and weeps, weeps, until her mother comes and sees the mess she's made of herself and the child is a hungry, snotty, soiled mess, but she presents the written alphabet, front to back, back to front, to her mother, and her mother snatches it from her hands and it is set aflame and shame and humiliation burns on the child's face as her mother berates her for soiling herself like a babe.

"Why is it showing me this?" Snow asks, crying, almost as hard as the child.

"Dark Magic rarely works the way it's promised," Regina answers Snow, her eyes still closed, rage written into every line of her body, and she'll kill the girl for this.

"Dark Magic?" Snow questions.

"Of course it's Dark, idiot," and Regina opens her eyes, glares at Snow, and sees around her the sprawling land of the old estate, the child, perhaps eleven years old, being held high above the ground, held with magic, "you rip open my mind," and Snow shakes her head, "invade my memories, force yourself upon me against my will, and you think it is not Dark?"

"Blue gave it to me!" Snow cries, and she holds the hourglass away from her body, but that soft glow of the blood, and it's the blood of a sacrificed lamb, has surrounded Snow's fingers and she cannot drop the hourglass.

The green hills blur away, and it's a teenager now that stands before them, and Regina turns once again away and she grabs Snow's shoulders and forces her to face away as well, "that can't be true," Regina spits.

"Mama, please," the teenager whispers, but does not cry, not anymore, her mother hates to see her cry.

"It is!" Snow says and she's breathing heavy, and she flinches against Regina's restraining hands when a smack is heard, and Regina is tired of this, wonders how many different memories will play before her, they are all the same in the end.

And now the child is pelting down a path on a horse and the child's mother uses vines and trees to grab her daughter off her horse and tells her she cannot leave the Kingdom without her intended husband, and Snow shakes in Regina's grasp, "You tried to run away?" she sounds surprised, and Regina does not answer her.

Regina gasps, and Leopold's chambers has blurred before their eyes and the dark haired child, the teenager stands before them in her white nightgown, it's clenched in her balled hands, and Regina looks at herself, and she had been a child, she sees now, sixteen, not even grown to her full height, and she's frozen looking at herself, and her lip turns up in disgust, and she had been a child, and she looks now and she sees a frightened child, and Snow shakes beside her, her gaze spinning about and she squeaks when she sees her father and Leopold is smiling at the dark haired child, looking her up and down and the child is crying and he pushes her backwards onto the bed and Regina spins Snow around once again, clamps her hands over Snow's ears but knows it is not enough to block out the thumping of the bed frame against the wall, nor the screaming and crying of the child, nor the grunting of the child's new husband, and Snow shakes and shakes, weeps and puts her own hands over Regina's.

And then it's the blue baby, the last baby, and Regina draws closer to the child on her bed, leaves Snow behind her, and she swallows and watches and ghosts her fingers over the blue baby as it is placed on the child's chest, and she has never forgotten his little face, he had her chin, and his father's brow and ears, and he is as beautiful as she remembers.

And he's torn from the child's breast by the midwife

And the child's husband grabs her when she flails from the bed to chase the baby and he shakes her and he's got tears in his own eyes and he shakes her HE'S DEAD REGINA, and Snow flinches, cries and cries, painful cries

"Regina!" and the voice comes from far away

And now the child is being struck across the face by her husband, and Snow gasps, and the child whispers an apology and a promise to do better and the child's husband sighs, disappointment in his eyes and he shakes his head and he says to h-

The hourglass disappears from Snow's hand, and Regina hears glass shatter, and it all fades away, "Regina!" and she gives one last look to Snow and next she blinks, her eyes open to see Robin looking down at her.

And she's laying on the cold, dusty floor of Leopold's old chambers, with dried blood on her face and his hands gripping her shoulders, and 'soul mate' echoes softly in her mind, and she stares up at him blankly, blinks, and she turns to look at Snow and Snow is curled into a ball, covered in dust, it's in her hair, and all over her clothes, and she weeps and weeps.

Regina aches, her mind aches, a deep pain, a weariness, and it's from being ripped open, and the girl had done it to her, and Regina cannot fathom it.

She can't fathom it and she blinks and Robin has his hand on her face, directs her gaze back to him and his mouth is moving, she can see it moving, but there's no sound but ringing in her ears, and she blinks again, her eyes stay closed for a beat, maybe two, and he pats her cheek, jostles her softly and she opens her eyes to look at him.

And he has only seen her weak, and she tries so hard not to be weak, to be strong, and she is strong but it whispers to her in the night, _weak_, and she is disgusted, weak, weak, he carries her, and how can he stand it, how does he stand her when all-

soul mate

he's trapped with her, shackled to her, born to be together and he never had a choice and it rankles, and she has done this to him, just by existing, and he is as trapped with her as she had been with Leopold and it makes her physically ill, or perhaps that is the pounding headache causing the ringing in her ears, but whatever it is has her emptying her stomach and he must have read it on her face because he turns her on her side and she vomits what little is in her stomach and then it is dry heaves, and it hurts so badly, her mind, her cheek, her nose, everything hurts

Regina looks at Snow, between dry heaves, and the girl is looking at her, still curled in on herself and she looks ugly, she has always been an ugly crier, and it twists her face, 'Regina,' and Regina can still not hear but the girls wide mouth is easy to read, 'I'm sorry', and now the girl pities her, and Regina has never wanted this, 'I'm sorry, Regina,' and Snow is trembling and Robin's got a hand rubbing Regina's back.

Darkness sweeps in on her, and she feels the cold of the stone against her forehead for a moment, and oh now her eyes are closed and her nose is clogged up with vomit and dried blood and she feels disgusting and weak and darkness swallows her up.

* * *

A cool, damp weight presses against her forehead and she groans, opens her eyes and it's Granny, looking at her without her glasses, and Regina has never seen the old woman without them, has a moment of disorientation and the woman growls out "About time," and then it clears up.

"Hhhnmm?" and Regina had meant to say 'What happened' and her absolute failure has her narrowing her eyes and she feels hot, hot all over and she's breathing heavy, though she has just woken.

Granny swipes angrily at her eyes, and there's wetness on her cheeks, and it has Regina frowning, confused and the room is tilting this way and that, and she can't keep her eyes open.

she hadn't even realized she'd closed them when she feels the old woman grab her chin, shaking it, not exactly gently, though nothing about the old wolf is strictly gentle, and Regina opens her eyes, "hhhnng," she says, and at least it sounds as displeased as she'd wanted it to.

"You scared us," Granny tells her, and she's leaning over the bed, her jaw working side to side, up and down and Granny pets Regina's hair back off her face in a repetitive move that she seems almost unaware of and Regina has the image of a dog grooming it's young and that is strange, but Regina doesn't dwell and her eyes are closed again, and she feels hot, too hot, and a door opens somewhere and Robin's voice and his gentle, calloused hands are on her face,

soul mate

but she can't open her eyes and she falls into the worst, most inadequate sleep of her lifetime.

* * *

**authors note**, **so I'm surprised some of you aren't like 'leave regina alone' because I'm doing lots of shit to her, and my head cannon is pretty fucked up, so if yall think it's too much you should say something, I mean it's too late to change it, but I like to know what everyone thinks, long detailed reviews are my lifeblood and even if you have a critisizm I'd love to know it...so yeah**

**ps. I feel the need to inform you that they are gonna be 'happy' one day**

**p.s.s those are memories that snow is watching, its mmmaaaagiiic**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	23. Chapter 23

"Papa," Roland drags Robin from the bench, his tiny hands desperate, "go to her."

"Roland," Robin shakes his head, drops to his knee before the boy, exasperated breath leaving him, "I told you I've looked every likely place."

Roland's hands shoot up, his face twisting up and he looks just like his mother when he does that, scrunches up his nose, flings his hands around, "Papa, you just gotta close your eyes and think about her!"

"Roland," Robin breathes and he shakes his head again.

"PAPA!" and Roland tugs on Robin's shirt, tiny hands pulling violently, "Papa, she's a part of you and all you need to do is close your eyes!"

Robin's eyes widen, he reaches for the child, but the child steps back, "What did you say?"

Fear is still in Roland, and he looks around in panic, back to his father, his feet moving restlessly, "Please, Papa, please believe me."

"Of course," Robin sooths and when he reaches, the child comes to him, "Roland, what do you mean?"

Roland puts his tiny hands on either side of his father's face, soft hands against his father's scruff, "She's a part of you, Papa," the boy says, he bites his lips and turns his gaze down, "and you're a part of her, and I can see it when you stand next to her, and when you touch her, and it all comes together around you and it glows golden, Papa."

"You're," Robin falters, grabs the boys hands from his face, cradles them instead, "You see this with your magic, Roland?"

The boy nods, shame in his eyes, and though Robin has tried his best to convince the boy that his magic does not make Robin love him less, the boy is still doubtful, and it fills Robin with sorrow.

"She," Robin grimaces a smile, "I'm a part of her, Roland?" and Robin has never put much say in magic, but this is Roland, the sweet boy who has never, ever lied to Robin, and the sweet boy says they glow golden, are part of each other. It could be a relief, the pull he feels for her, the desperation to look at her and speak to her, to hold her safe and warm, and it has happened between them so quickly, frighteningly quickly, and the moment he first saw her he felt that first downward tug into it and this would make it look a lot less like madness.

"Papa, close your eyes," Robin does and Roland's voice instructs him, "and you just have to think about her." Robin does so, and he thinks about how she had run from him, and why, if they are a part of each other as Roland says, why, why, would she-

"No," Roland's voice reproaches softly, "don't be angry, you have to think about nice things." The boy whispers, as if Robin needs aid in this department, "she's really pretty, Papa, you can think about that, it'll work."

Robin huffs out an amused breath and her lovely face builds up inside his mind in fragments, the wide, shining smile he has only seen less than a handful of times, her dark, soulful eyes, and they crinkle softly in the corners when she is well and truly amused, and her hair, god how he adores her hair, soft and heavy in his hands-

"Gah," Robin gasps and Roland steadies him as well as he can with his tiny hands.

"Papa?" Roland asks as Robin stands, shooting up and the boy makes to follow him; Robin turns, picks the child up and puts him into the arms of the first Merry Man he sees, who happens to be Walter.

"Watch him, don't let him out of your sight," he barks at Walter and the man nods his head.

"Papa!" the boy screeches, he's trying to get out of Walter's hold, but the man knows well enough to abide by Robin's instructions.

Robin pelts out of the dining chamber, he'd seen the room, as if from her eyes, and it is dark, layered in years and years' worth of dust and it is cold, and she is on the floor, shivering, and there is blood on her face, and how did it get there, he does not know, but she is alive, and he stops at the stairs and closes his eyes again and begs and begs, where, where, and his body walks without his volition and he's pelting up the stairs, through grand halls, and it takes too long and he begs and begs, faster, faster, and he suddenly flings to the right, into a nook that leads to a thin, tiny hall, a serving hall and he runs and runs.

Until he stands before a grand door, and there's carvings in the wood, a crown, a white fox wearing a crown, the door is half ajar, and Robin pushes it in further and there's one set of foot prints in the thick dust and it leads to two women, splayed next to each other, their dark hair spills behind both their heads and onto each other's and they both have dark, dark hair.

"Regina," Robin jogs forward, falls to his knees between them and has his hands checking Regina's pulse, and it is strong under his fingers and he breathes in relief. He turns to Snow and it is the first time he notices the glowing hourglass held in her fist, it's an ominous red, and nothing good has ever come from things that glow, Snow is weeping, silently, her face still but tears slip down into her hair out of her eyes. Robin tears the little hourglass from Snow's fingers, her fingers will not bend and he has to use a bit of force and he reminds himself to be careful of her fingers, eventually the hourglass is free and he throws it to the wall and it shatters, and all that ominous red wafts up, hangs almost threateningly in the air, and then it fades.

Robin turns back to Regina, hands on her shoulders and the bottom half of her face is covered in blood, and he has seen enough of her blood for a lifetime, and he wants to wipe it away, "Regina!" he says.

Her eyes blink open and she looks up at him with no recognition, empty gaze on him and she turns her head to Snow, who has curled in a ball, weeping loudly now that she's awoken, but Robin cannot spare a glance to her, and he turns Regina's face back to him, "Regina, say something, are you alright?"

She stares and stares with blank eyes and then they close, softly and no, no, he needs to see her, she needs to stay, Robin pats her cheek and she opens her eyes, grudgingly so.

A flicker crosses her face, she looks green, and Robin turns her on her side right before she vomits, and she has very little in her stomach and he can feel her entire body wracked in painful tremors as he holds her, rubs her back, and when her stomach is empty, still her muscles constrict, spittle flying from her mouth to the floor.

"Regina," he says above her, "you'll be alright," he promises, and he rubs her back and she passes out and he lifts her half in his lap, away from the vomit and he looks to Snow.

"What happened?" he asks, and he has a hand in Regina's dark hair, her heavy hair.

Snow stays curled on the ground, but she looks at him, takes a deep breath and sobs out, "Blue gave it to me," she says.

Robin looks to where that ominous red hung in the air and back to Snow, "What did it do?" he growls and Snow flinches on the floor.

"It," she hiccups, "it was for showing the truth," she says, and it sounds like she is mimicking what another has said.

"Is that what the fairy told you?" he asks, and she nods, "is that all she said?" he yells, because there must be more, Snow couldn't have blindly taken magic and used it without knowing what it did or how or why.

Snow looks up at him, is beginning to calm, but her face is all twisted, "I had to be touching Regina, Blue said," she breathes in, "that all I had to do was ask it, and it would show me the truth."

"What did you ask it?" Robin growls, moves Regina briefly off his legs so he can stand, once he's got his feet he reaches down and lifts her, and she's covered in dust and blood and she hangs limp in his arms and this is the last time, he vows, this is the last time she will ever come to harm. He will take her, and Roland, and his men and they will leave this snake pit, leave the green witch, travel somewhere no one can find them and Regina will be safe, and Roland will be safe.

"If she'd help her sister," Snow says and it comes out garbled and her brow is pinched.

"Tell me the truth!" Robin barks, because he knows she is lying, and how can she when she is covered in snot and tears and Regina is covered in blood, what use is lying.

Snow works her way up sitting, weight on her hands, trembling, and she finally looks at him and at Regina and fresh tears leak out her eyes, "If she loved me," she says finally, her mouth opens in grief and Robin wonders if she'd found the answer she'd wanted and he glares at her and stomps out of the room.

* * *

Regina's chambers are closer then his and he kicks the door open, places her gently on the bed and checks her pulse again, at her neck and wrist, and the thud thud of her blood reassures him, but she is pale, and her cheek is swollen and she still has not awoken, and Roland flashes before him, but the boy still looked ill from when he'd pulled Regina back from death, but she cannot be left like this and Robin is at a loss.

He needs help, a healer, and he remembers the one that had scoured the infection from her arm, but he dare not leave her to go in search of him, will dare not leave her ever again.

But he cannot carry her throughout the castle, Robin stomps away from the bed, grabs a chair and throws it against the wall, hurls it and it shatters in three pieces. He turns back and Regina still lays unmoving.

Robin walks to her, gathers her up once more, and he'll carry her and if anyone so much as looks at her he will burn them straight through with his glare, Robin bundles her close to him and he is about to lift her from the bed when he feels a presence elsewhere in the room, he lets her go, listens to the foreign sound. Robin spins on his heel, unsheathing the dagger at his waist and he's crouching and snarling with Regina behind him.

It's a hare.

A misty hare, coiling like smoke.

It stares and stares with its sharp eyes at Robin until Robin's dagger lowers, the hare's nose twitches and it takes a hopping little step forward. It stares and stares at Robin and Robin can hardly breathe, he feels like he is losing his mind.

"What are you?" he asks the hare, and it hops forward a little bit more.

Robin knows rabbits and hares are different creatures but he thinks of the rabbit Tom had tortured, torn apart, and Robin had never said a thing to him about it.

And Regina had told Roland once, that bunnies were fast because they ate carrots.

The hare is close enough for Robin to touch if he wants, but he can't move his hand, he swallows, "Can," he falters and the hare's head tilts, ears twitch, like it's listening, "can you help me?" Robin finally asks it.

It stares and stares, waiting.

"I need help," Robin says, "please," the hare blinks, like it understands, and it turns and hops, long strong strides and hare's are wild creatures, and fast, and it passes through the wall, its misty form gone and Robin slumps against the bed and pants heavy breathes, and rubs his hand over his face, and he has lost his mind.

* * *

"What's happened?"

Robin startles, looks up, Granny rushes towards the bed and Robin sees the ghostly hare sitting by the door Granny has left open in her hurry. The hare blinks, and wafts away like smoke.

She feels Regina's pulse, puts her hand on her chest to feel her breathing and then the old woman is crouching before him, grabbing him and hauling him up.

"Well?" she barks.

"You saw it?" he asks, instead of answering.

Granny nods, shooshs him, harshly and despite its growly nature, Robin is comforted, "The Figment?" she asks and she turns towards the door, but the hare is gone, and then she glances back at Regina, clearly unconscious, and she frowns at him, "Did you cast it?"

Robin's feels all the breath rush out of him and he shakes his head, but no words come, but he was the only one awake in the room when it had appeared and Granny is looking at him, studying him, but then she turns sharply away, and she growls out the sharp order to get her water, hot water and Robin looks at Regina, then at Granny as the old woman soothes Regina's hair off her face, and he nods to no one, yes, she is safe, safe here with Granny, and he nods again and he stumbles off for hot water.

Granny cleans the blood off her face and neck, and the dust off all her other skin, and she has Robin leave the room as she changes Regina's clothes, he has seen her already, he tells her and she gives him a _look_ and makes him leave anyway.

Regina does not wake, and Granny grows more and more concerned, more and more gruff as time goes by and she has him tell her all of it over and over, and every time the hourglass is mentioned she takes off her glasses, and he asks her what, but she shakes her head at him. She knows more about magic then Robin had first thought, and it's in her bones she tells him. He clutches at Regina's hand, envelopes it in his own, and he can feel something pulling between them, rushing out of him and to her, but he does not let her go.

When Granny begins to cry her chin is held high, her jaw stiff, and he has never seen a woman look stronger in her tears, he excuses himself and she nods to him, grateful, but he knows she would have done as she'd liked whether he'd stayed or gone, but he goes, just outside the door and he sits with his back to the wall, and he closes his eyes and he thinks of the ghostly hare.

Robin opens his eyes to find that the hare sits before him, pearly, made of smoke, with its eyes that stare and stare, and Robin gasps as the Figment comes closer, and it sits before him and it looks at him, and it's not warmth or comfort, but it's something along those lines in the hare's eyes, and then it fades away from him once more.

He puts his face in his hands and thinks he must be going mad.

* * *

**authors note, You are all so fucking wonderful, I must say, and your views are all so varied and interesting and I have read and reread all of your reviews, I am blown away! and some of you might look in the future and go 'oh hey look at that' because you had some awesome ass advice and guidance and you're all amazing. but right after I posted my welcome of criticism I was expecting, I don't even know, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but you were all so clear in your points of displeasure and so so supportive of this story in spite of those points, and I'm just so happy to be able to provide this for you. thank you.**

**ps, so there was a guest who was all like 'ur 'and's' are shit' and at first I was like ouch, but then I was rereading it before putting it on tumblr and I'm just sitting laughing because, holy shit, guest was right, lol, so I've changed it a bit and am gonna try harder to not overload with the 'ands' in the future.**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	24. Chapter 24

**Authors note, the finale left me completely heartbroken, like so much farther then a television show should be able to hurt me, it's intense, so thank goodness this is heading out of angsty mcangsty and I can just revel in my au here with my hands over my ears pretending things are lovey and beautiful**

**oh and ye be warned of sexay at the end bit of this chap**

* * *

Regina's eyes scrunch tighter shut, her whole face bunching up in irritability; turning on her side, trying to evade the slant of sunlight falling straight across her face.

"Regina?" Robin squeezes the hand he holds in his grip, standing from his chair, "Regina?"

She takes a deep breath, opens her eyes, bleary eyes, and she looks up at him, squinting, for a moment. He could laugh in joy at the sight of her, her bed head hair and the vaguely dissatisfied frown she wears, and she wakes with that frown upon every waking, it fills him with a warmth, and now he can explain it, the warmth, the burning ache in his bones to be with her, Roland said they glowed golden, that they were a part of each other.

Regina swallows and says something that could be his name, and the joy fizzles out, and her face is still swollen, her color is all wrong, and she looks in worse condition than he's ever seen her, and he has seen her die.

"Regina," he sits down on the edge of the bed, moves her hand from the bedspread to his lap, "good morning," and he tucks hair off her face and behind her ear, but he can't tear his fingers from her hair, her beautiful heavy hair.

She sighs, a weighty exhale and her eyes close and he fears she's fallen back asleep before she speaks, "Robin," she says and she opens her eyes.

Robin looks down at her, and he needs to ask her of the hourglass, if she was alright, how she came to be bleeding in what he now knows to be King Leopold's old chambers, and he has heard that Snow will not leave her bed, that she sobs and sobs and will speak to no one. Robin needs to tell her of what Roland had said, that they were a part of each other. Robin needs to ask her about the hare, the misty hare, and Robin had been the one to cast it and how and why, but most of all he needs to know if she is alright, because she looks like death, ill with no chance of recovery, and she is a witch of utmost power, a scholar beyond that and if anyone should know, it would be her.

"Regina," he leans forward, closer to her, squeezes her hand, "are you going to get better?" he asks and it's a whisper, he is not blind, he is not a fool, and she has grown steadily more ill since Roland had brought her back from death. Pale and dizzy and Granny has practically plied her with food, yet still she is losing more and more weight, and there are dark circles under her eyes, and he fears he already knows the answer.

She looks up at him and her mouth quirks up in one corner and she looks heartbroken and not surprised and she answers, her voice trembling, "I don't think so," she tells him.

Robin pulls her up against him, hugs her to himself and tears won't come, he just holds her, and despair seems to leak out of his every pore, he will drown in it. "There must be something to be done," he says finally, he kisses the top of her head, breathes in the vanilla scent of her dark hair.

"Nothing brings back the dead," Regina mumbles into his shirt and she's clutching at his back, head tucked against his chest.

"Roland did though," Robin asserts, and it's more bark then anything else, because Roland had done it, had done the impossible. "We'll find a healer," Robin decides, and he pets her hair through his fingers, "a mage," and he's trembling, can't control himself, "we'll fix this."

She shakes her head, he can feel it against his chest and her fingers claw at his back.

Robin squeezes her, squeezes his eyes shut and he rocks her back and forth, his hands in her hair, "We'll fix this," he repeats, because he will not say goodbye, not to her, never to her, and he would chase her soul to the world without end, would break through the deathgate, and he will have her, forever, never let her go.

Granny walks in then, pauses, and Robin turns slightly to look at her, she shakes herself, plops the tray of food on the chair Robin had been sitting in.

"Off her now," Granny demands, Robin let's Regina go, scoots over to her other side and helps her stay upright with an arm around her back. Granny looks down at Regina, and Regina looks almost confused looking back at her, "You're skin and bones," Granny grumbles and she places the tray on Regina's legs.

Regina swallows, and she picks up the silverware, it looks like she's hardening herself for war instead of breakfast and she's eaten half the meal before she gets sick. The tray gets knocked to the floor as she leans over the edge of the bed and it all comes back up, Robin rubs her back, holds her hair, kisses her shoulder, and Granny looks close to tears when Regina finds the chance to tell her she's sorry between heaves.

* * *

The Merry Men come, all their belongings on their backs, and Little John looks at Robin and Robin can't imagine what he sees but the larger man shoves a bag of Robin's own belongings at him, "These are better accommodations anyway," he says and the Merry Men spread throughout the hall and claim for themselves all the rooms that have stayed empty because no one wanted to bed so close to the Evil Queen.

They post a man at the end of the hall, every hour, and they look at Robin, sympathy in their eyes and it is just like when Marian passed and Robin wants to weep, wants to rage.

Roland demands to see her, his hands balled up and he demands to see her, and what can Robin do?

"Regina," the boy whispers, because Regina is sleeping, small in the large bed. Roland walks closer, watches for a moment, and there's an expression on his face unlike Robin has ever seen, and Roland is only four, and he should not wear such a heavy face, the little boy looks sad and he reaches out, places a hand on the crown of her head. He looks over her, and Robin thinks he is looking out the balcony doors, out into the sunshine, but Roland shakes his head, and rage a little boy shouldn't know how to feel crosses his face in a snarl, and a thick lash of blinding lilac erupts in the air over Regina and strikes against something Robin can't see, "You can't have her," the boy says.

"Roland," Robin whispers and he stares at the boy. "What was that? What did you do?

Roland smiles at him, his beautiful cherubic face alight in the sunshine, "It's alright, Papa, they aren't taking her," and the boy climbs onto the bed, snuggles under the covers and Regina wakes a little, long enough to wrap her arms around the boy.

"My knight," she breathes and Roland smiles, but its melancholy, and he nods against her breast.

"I'm your brave knight," Roland agrees, and he lies still in her embrace as she falls back asleep, and once she is relaxed and still next to him, the boy closes his eyes and his hand comes up right above her heart and more blinding lilac erupts from him, and it pours into her, and Robin can see her heart glowing inside of her, blinding blue lilac, and from her heart the glow travels to all her arteries, to all her veins, before it fades.

"Roland?" Robin questions, and Regina's cheek is healed, and she looks better, a bit, but Roland looks tired and drawn, and this is not sustainable, not if he can't heal her once and for all.

"They aren't taking her," the boy repeats and he snuggles beside her.

"Who? Who isn't taking her?" Robin asks and he leans forward and puts a hand on Roland's back.

The boy shakes his head, and he won't say more.

"Roland, is she dying?"

Robin flinches, and knows that's not a question to ask a child, but this is an extraordinary child and he will know the answer better than anyone.

"No," he says, sharply and powerfully and Robin believes him.

"Roland," Robin says later, and the boy has not moved from Regina's arms.

The boy looks at him, smiles at him.

"I want to show you something," and Robin closes his eyes, and when he opens them the pearly hare sits at the end of the bed, it has no weight, it hovers over the bedding and Roland regards it with his head cocked.

"You have magic, Papa," the boy sounds surprised.

Robin had been afraid of that, because of course he must have magic to cast the hare, Granny had called it a Figment, had explained that it wasn't something all that uncommon and they were useful things.

"Can you see my," and Robin falters, licks his lips, "my magic? Roland can you see it?"

"No, papa," Roland turns his head away from Regina, "I can't see magic."

"What can you see?" Robin asks, and he has not spoken to the boy about this, and perhaps that's why the boy still feels so nervous.

Roland frowns, works his mouth, "I can see peoples colors," he finally says, but his face is screwed up like those aren't the right words.

"What are my colors?" Robin asks, and he leans forward towards the hare, the hare takes a step towards him.

"You're green, dark green, and dark brown, just like the forest, Papa."

"And Regina? What are her colors?" the hare extends its neck, and Robin expects his hand to go through it's smoky form as his fingers touch it's nose, but they don't, and despite what it looks like, it feels like fur under Robin's hand.

"She's blue, like the ocean; do you remember the ocean, Papa?" Roland sits up, crawls towards the hare, the hare turns to look at him.

Roland's eyes are wide, and he reaches out his hand, the hare jumps forward at the boy, Roland giggles as he falls back, the hare on his chest. Robin stands, the chair knocked backward, but the hare just rests there on the boy's chest, and Roland pets it, giggling and rolling, but the hare is not dislodged.

"What's this?" Regina asks, and she's smiling, her head still on the pillow.

"Papa has a bunny!" Roland tells her happily and all but shoves the ghostly hare at Regina.

Regina studies the hare, as it tucks itself against her body, burrowing against her and she raises a hand to pet it, "Robin, you made this?" _she_ doesn't sound surprised and Roland can't see magic, but perhaps she can, and Robin frowns thinking of it.

The hare stretches itself out against her stomach and chest, tucks its head towards her and its eyes close and she pets it softly, little wisps of smoke curling around her fingers.

"I made it," Robin finally answers.

She turns away from the hare, dark eyes on him, and he can see it there in her eyes, she'd known he had magic, and he doesn't know quite what to feel about it. But whatever there is to say to each other, will have to wait.

"Look, Regina, he likes you!" Roland cries and he's smiling with his hands in front of his face, practically turned to goo over the hare glued to Regina's side.

* * *

The hare does not fade, even when Robin closes his eyes and mentally orders the thing away, but it won't, and it stays next to Regina, and turns to glare at him with his pearly eyes.

Regina feels well enough to eat, and she won't eat in her bed like an invalid, she says, and Robin rolls his eyes as he helps her rise.

The Merry Men have converted the long hall from which all their rooms diverge into a dining area, and they gather enough food for everyone and Robin can see Regina's eyes widen when she witness's all the men sitting on cushions on the floor eating and laughing.

The hare lopes around the hall and the men turn to look at it as it bounces off walls, off empty air, it lands and leaps off of Friar Tuck's head before coming back to Regina and settling by her feet.

She lowers herself to a cushion, ignores the eyes of everyone and their eyes flick from her, and she is clearly sick, to Robin, and they turn their sympathetic eyes away, except Arthur and he cracks a joke, a new one that Robin has never heard and, as he'd no doubt intended, Regina splutters up the mouthful of soup she'd just put in her mouth.

It's easier after that, and Regina eats half a bowl of soup, before putting it down looking nauseous.

"Regina," Roland says and he plops himself down in her lap, and the hare jumps into _his_ lap, and Regina rocks back and forth with the boy, "can you tell me a story?" Roland asks and he pets the hare softly, he's taken by it.

"What kind of story?" she asks, and she tucks her chin into his curls, and her eyes are closed and she holds him close, and they both look unhealthy and she'd only eaten half a bowl of soup, but they look content with each other and calm.

"How did you become a Queen?" Roland asks, and Regina stiffens.

Robin has eyes only for her, but out of the corner of his eye he can see Arthur looking at her, and he doesn't move his gaze but things have gone quiet.

"I married a King," she finally says, her eyes still shut.

And Robin reaches for her, before he thinks better of it and he lowers his hand.

"oh," the boy says and he pets the hare before reaching forward and snagging a heel of bread from Regina's plate, taking a huge bite.

"Why don't I tell you of the mighty Ser Boran the Brash? Hmmm?" she says to him, "He rode a silver steed and wielded the long sword Sunbright."

Roland nods, mouthful of bread and the hare hops off his lap.

* * *

Robin isn't sure she'll want him in the bed with her, he remembers she'd run from him twice.

"Can I sleep beside you?" he asks her, and she reaches up a hand, nods and he climbs onto the bed and arranges her with her head on his shoulder and he can weave his hands through her hair and over her back.

They lay in silence, until Robin tucks his hand at the back of her neck, "Roland told me something," he whispers, and the room is filled with moonlight, there's a cool night breeze coming through the doors to the balcony.

"What?" she answers him.

Robin closes his eyes, hand traveling from her neck and up into her hair, "He told me that I'm a part of you," he says, and can feel her tremble, "that you're a part of me. He sees it with his magic, that we belong together."

Regina says nothing, but he can feel her breath, harsh in and out through her lungs.

"I was glad," he tells her and one of her hands comes up against his chest, "I feel so much for you," he tells her and she trembles harder, and sniffles, "so much in so little time and I thought it madness."

"Robin," she gasps and she tucks her head against his neck.

"I care for you so deeply," and the word 'care' feels inadequate, but she would run from him if he were to say the word he knows is right. Love, he wants to tell her, but he cannot.

She rises on an elbow, looks down at him with her hair falling over one shoulder and she's smiling a tortured, watery smile and she's shaking her head at him. "You shouldn't," she finally says and she makes to extract herself from him, but he wraps his arms around her, and she does not fight it as she crashes back to his chest.

"I'll do as I like," he tells her and she guffaws brokenly.

"I have no doubt," she mumbles.

And when she pulls up and kisses him, she cups his face in her hands, and they lay for a while, until she moves to straddle him and he groans, and he tells himself to stop this, because she is ill, but she feels perfect against him and warm and she is alive, alive, and his hands land on her hips.

She pulls away, hands bracing her up on either side of his head and he tugs on her nightgown, bunching it in his hands until it's over her hips and she grins down at him, sweeps it over her head and she sits straight, unashamed and beautiful sitting atop him. His back leaves the bed, he sits up, arms around her, Robin kisses along her throat, her breasts, with open mouth kisses that leave streaks of wetness that shine in the moon light

Regina clutches at his hair, handfuls and she's pulling and he hisses but it's a pain he can enjoy, as long as she's naked and lovely and gyrating her hips against his own.

"Regina," he gasps and his hands are running all over her, and she is soft and he squeezes her ass with both hands and she moans into his mouth as she kisses him, and its all tongue and heat and wetness.

She tugs at his shirt, pulls it over his head, and Robin remembers this was where things had taken a turn, and she has not explained, though he did not ask.

Regina grabs his wrist, pulls it up and she kisses the lion crest he'd had inked into his arm, "When I was young," she gasps against him as he bucks up, and she kisses the tattoo again, "a fairy used her dust to find me my," she bites her lip, and he's got a nipple in his mouth but he is listening, and he hums to tell her to go on, "my soul mate," she breathes, and he pulls his head back.

He stares at her, her dark eyes, and she stares right back, "it led me to a tavern, I never saw his face," she looks back at the lion tattoo, "but I did see this."

"It was me?" he asks and his hands run up and down her back, squeezes her ass again and hunkers her down, has her grind against him.

Regina moans, nods, and places the wrist she's got in her grasp against her chest, and Robin dutifully massages a pert breast, nipple a hard pebble in his fingers when he pinches.

"I want you so badly," he says, and he's so hard, and twice he's almost had her and he feels like he's going to burst, "please, Regina." And they are a part of each other, soul mates, if Roland and a fairy are to be believed.

She nods, slides off his lap, "Then have me," she says and Robin's heart could break, she is so beautiful, and his, she's his.

He tears his trousers and underclothes off, and when he turns again to her, she lays back, her legs open, but he remembers her unease before, but she's biting her lip. "It's alright," she tells him and tugs at his wrist and he crawls inside the sanctuary between her thighs.

"You're exquisite," he groans and he can feel her, wet against him and he bends down to capture a nipple again in his mouth as he plunges a finger inside of her, she clenches around him, her thighs quivering and she moans, in and out, and her hands claw at his back.

The nipple pops out of his mouth as he turns his head up to her, and her eyes are closed, her mouth open and she is exquisite, he captures that open mouth in a wet kiss that leaves them both breathless and she's squirming under him, rocking against his hand, he adds another finger and she gasps.

There's sweat on her brow, and between her breasts, and after another moment his fingers leave her. He grabs her hand from his shoulder, puts it between them and she grasps him, hard and long in her tiny hand and he groans as she pumps, head falling to her shoulder, "Regina," he groans and the name spills from his lips like a prayer, and he loves her.

She guides the tip of him to her entrance, wet and wanting and his breath hitches and his arms tremble, "Are you alright?" he asks her, and she cups his jaw, makes him look at her, and she kisses him, wet and languid and tugs on him until he's just inside.

He eases in slow, and it's like he's found his home, and she's keening in his ear, her knees drawn up and she's so, so wet, and perfectly tight around him, and it has never felt this good, this powerful and he gasps, the muscles in his jaw tight when he's finally all in and he waits a beat, her inner muscles clenching and unclenching around him as they adjust and she's moaning, sharp little breaths, moaning the exhale.

Robin backs up, halfway out, and glides back in, and it's gentle and easy and she gives another sharp cry.

He kisses her, "Regina?" he asks, her eyes are closed, her mouth open, head thrown back, and she's a vision.

Regina nods, and he backs up and back in, and she cries out again, one hand fisting the bedsheet, the other pulling at his chest hair.

And he loses himself in the feel of her, wet and tight around his shaft, and her thighs are soft against him as he bucks in and out and he kisses her, her perfect mouth and her tits bounce when he puts a bit more force into his thrusts and she cries out at every thrust and moans and he bends down, marks her neck and groans and there's the slap of skin on skin, and the heady scent of sex in the air.

He puts his hands under her ass, lifts her up a bit off the bed and her legs tremble on either side of him as he pounds into her, all the way out and then all the way in, and she's calling his name, incoherent almost, her eyes screwed shut and when he feels he's close to his release, about to snap, close to burst, he pulls out, fists his hand around his shaft and pumps twice and spills his seed across her quivering stomach

She's panting, head thrown back on the bed, but she has not come and Robin gives himself a moment and lowers himself down the bed until his head is between her thighs and he wraps his arms around her legs, his hands splayed over her belly and he swipes his tongue across her clit.

Regina cries out, bucks, and he holds her down on the bed and grins before he starts drawing the alphabet across her clit with his tongue and if she was incoherent before, it is nothing to this. He moves one of his hands from her belly and has two fingers up inside of her, pumping in and out, and his tongue works madly and she comes, shaking and she lets out a loud yell, his name and her hands pull at his hair and she quivers and pants and he keeps on his attentions until she's a whimpering mess.

She pulls him up with a handful of his hair, kisses him.

"Sleep," he tells her, kisses her temple, draws the blanket up over them both and she turns into him, head on his shoulder and she is instantly asleep.

Concern reemerges and he spends long hours running his hand up and down her back, she is lovely, and soft, she breathes easily against him.

She is his home.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	25. Chapter 25

"Close your eyes, Roland," Regina says quietly; the boy sits in her lap, and she sits on a cushion on the floor, the commotion of the hall, Merry Men talking, laughing, cleaning weapons, an added challenge to the test she's presented him.

"Regina," he whines, and he's fidgeting in her hold, but not really trying to escape.

"One more try, Roland," she says, staring at the candle that sits before them, unlit after ten attempts, "Please," she asks, kisses the top of his head.

He lets out a bad tempered huff of breath, and he is no doubt pouting, but he stills in her lap, "Okay," he mumbles and she can feel his little body tense, imagines his eyes shut tightly.

"Think of the flame," she croons to him, squeezes him, "it's light, it's warmth," Rumple had taught her to wield flame as a weapon, with rage and despair her fuel, but the sweet boy will never learn that brand of magic, not from her, not from any one. "Fire is our friend, if we respect it," she can feel the spark ignite in him, as she has for the last four tries, but it has yet to light the candle. "Fire lets us see our family in the night, keeps us warm together," she goes on, and the spark builds inside of him, "without it your Papa couldn't read you bedtime stories, you see, it helps us," the boy lets out a gasp, and then a peal of delighted giggling.

The candle is lit.

Roland jumps from her lap, snatches the candle from the ground and runs to Little John, tugging on the large man's trousers, "Look!" the boy cries, proudly and Little John does not disappoint, he leans down and grabs Roland bodily up, whooping.

"He is a master already!" Little John calls to the hall and the men turn and clap and cheer for Roland and they all love him so dearly, even with his magic, and Regina is glad, so unbelievably glad that these men do not see it as a blight, a curse, something that can be beaten out.

Little John walks and plops Roland back down by her sitting place and the large man smiles at her as she blows out the candle flame, and it looks genuine and Regina cringes back, tries to return the gesture, but can see in his face that she has failed.

"You've learned that trick in the nick of time," Little John says and waves a hand at the three men who carry lunch into the hall, John ruffles Roland's hair and he sits next to Regina, where Robin usually sits.

But Robin is not there, he'd gone off after waking her with breakfast and a kiss, a bath already drawn in the washroom attached to her chambers, and he'd sheepishly apologized for leaving her sticky and naked in bed. And he'd had her, she had let him have her on her back, between her thighs, and he was there the next morning, smiling and kissing her, caressing her hair and he left her with a 'be well,' and the way he'd looked at her, it was like she was the world.

It had left her content, and she'd walked to the washroom with a smile on her face, knocked right off when she looked in the mirror. The deathfly swarm was bigger than ever before, but she could still see her features through it, and that meant she had time. Time for what she hadn't decided, but time.

When the food is laid out, and Regina thinks perhaps she'll keep some of it down, Regina leans forward on her cushion, to make a plate for Roland, and he's telling her excitedly 'ohh the fish the fish,' pointing as if she can't see the fish he wants so badly in his belly, and her arm gives out under the weight she places on it and her front crumples to the floor, Regina gasps out a sharp cry of surprise.

"Your Majesty!" and Little John's hands are on her shoulders, helping her sit up and shame floods her, and she beats down the blush working up her neck. _Weak_, a voice whispers, slithers in the back of her mind before she shuts it out, and it was her mother's voice.

"Regina," Roland's little hands are clutching her dress front, whole fistfuls in his grasp, it's when she turns to look at him that dizziness erupts and she sways in her seat, and Little John's hands tighten on her shoulders.

"I'm fine," she tells the boy, takes a deep breath and works the fingers of one of his hands free of her dress, "It's alright," Regina tells the boy and is glad, and alternatively shamed, that Little John does not believe her enough to remove his hands from her.

"Your Majesty?" the large man questions and she turns her head to look at him, and one hand rises to rest over one of his and he's got pity in his gaze and she can't abide pity, but without him holding her up she's quite sure she'd be flat on her back right now and so she swallows the snide comment she'd had at the tip of her tongue.

The doors to the hall open and Regina turns her head, just like everyone else, to see Robin there, and he frowns at the sight of her, and what must she look like, because he jogs towards her, hopping over men's plates and drinks in a spectacular show of impoliteness, "Regina?" before he kneels beside her, and for a moment she's got Roland with a handful of her dress, Little John's hands on her shoulders, and Robin's hands cupping her face, and it feels stifling.

But Little John let's her go, and Robin holds her up and his magic swells up, pours into her, and she gasps, clutches at his shirt front, because this had intention written all over it and she turns her eyes up to him, and he's got a hard, grim line for a mouth and he's giving it to her. _Giving_ it to her and strength flows from him, gushing and it's too much, "Stop," she tells him.

Confusion marks his brow, and he's opened the gate, but he has no control, and how could he, as a novice who'd discovered his magic but a day ago and the magic doesn't stop flowing and it's just like at the Weeping, filling her up but she does not need that open gate now, as she had then, and it's too much, painfully too much, and she repeats it, 'stop' she thinks she says, and it's like liquid fire is under her skin and his hands are red hot irons cupping her face and she pushes at his chest, 'stop' and he lets her go.

She thinks only a moment has gone by, and she's on her back, blinking up at the ceiling of the hall outside her chambers, Roland's little hands in her hair, shaking her shoulder, and Robin hovers over her, an arm held in front of him, blocking him from her and that is Little John's arm, and there are other faces, too many faces and all looking down at her, _weak_, her mother whispers.

"Is this a spectator sport," Regina snipes, and it's not one of her best, but the men draw back and when she struggles to sit a hand is in front of her, and it's not Robin's but she grabs it and is pulled back into a sitting position and it's Arthur's hand and he doesn't let her go once she's up, he holds her hand and cups her elbow. He looks young, and scared, looking at her and Robin looks no better.

"Robin, it's alright," and now that she isn't being pummeled with his magic, she does feel better, stronger, and he just needs to learn control, and she can teach him, like she taught Roland to light the candle.

Robin shakes his head, and Little John's restraining arm lowers as Regina reaches for Robin, but he flinches back from her. "I'm sorry," he tells her and his body looks ready to spring away from her and she will not have it.

"Robin, look at me," she pleads, and she lurches forward, snaring his shirt and she pulls on him, and she'd fall if it weren't for Arthur holding onto her elbow, and Roland a warm, solid, constant, weight pinned to her side.

"I," and he does look at her, and there's regret in his eyes and he falters looking at her and she doesn't move as he reaches out, cups her face as he had done moments before, but there is no magic in his touch, just his gentle, calloused fingers and she sighs in relief.

"I taught Roland to light a candle with his magic," she tells him, and she smiles at him, "I'll teach you too, Robin, to control your magic if you'd allow it," Robin's magic may be the same color as hers, but hers is focused in darkness, rage, torment, and she could teach him as she taught Roland, with only love and warmth and help to guide him.

Robin swallows thickly, and he stares at her, emotion heavy in his eyes, in the almost frown that decorates his mouth and he surprises her when he leans in to kiss her. Violently attaching his lips to hers and she opens for him immediately, gasping into his mouth, and it's desperation and tongue and he tilts her head back, kisses her and kisses her until he draws back and she's panting, lightheaded.

Arthur's let go of her elbow, but Roland is still attached to her and Robin's hands are still cupping her jaw, "Robin, I'm alright," Regina repeats and his eyes are closed, forehead against hers and she recognizes it now, the expression on his face and its guilt.

He'd hurt her and he feels guilt.

"Let the woman eat," a man calls down the hall and men chuckle, strained, and Robin finally let's go of her face, he sits beside her, wraps an arm around her tightly and doesn't let her go the entire meal, and Roland is still on her other side and they eat lunch together and the atmosphere in the hall is quiet and the men look at her and Robin and at each other and it's one of the most awkward meals Regina has ever sat for.

* * *

"Do you want me to teach you?" she asks and she's tired and about to fall asleep, though it is only midafternoon, and Robin lays with her, his boots by the bed, he runs his hands through her hair.

He mulls it over, fingers working through her hair, and it's a while before he answers, "It's a dangerous thing to hold unchecked," he finally says and it's not phrased like a question, but Regina answers it anyway.

"Some are more powerful than others, Robin, like Roland, he needs to be trained," Regina tucks her head against him, "if," she licks her lips, and she'd taught Roland to light a flame without asking Robin's permission, "you'd rather you found him a different teache-"

"I trust you," Robin says, declares, and he squeezes her, as if he knows how much those three words mean to her. And they mean a great deal.

She climbs up onto her elbow, looks down at him and grabs his chin, kisses him, and he's grinning as she pulls back, his hands at her hips, "Thank you," Regina tells him and his eyes soften, and the grin melts away into a somber expression and he pulls her back down, lays her on his chest.

"What is it, that pulls between us? That," he rubs her back, "hurt you so?"

Regina closes her eyes, "Magic," she answers.

He tsks his tongue, "It doesn't happen with Roland or I, or you and Roland, does it? What is it, I thought," he pulls away, turns on his side and they are facing each other and he grabs her hands in his, "it would help you, that's why I tried to-"

"It did help," she answers him, moves against him with a leg between his own and their breathing the same air they are so close, "you just gave too much, and…" Regina lets the sentence drift, but he picks it up and the guilt is there in his eyes.

"I hurt you," Robin says, and he sounds devastated.

Regina can't deny it, and she remembers the feel of his hands, burning hands, on her face and she leans forward, kisses him softly, softly and slowly, hand wrapped around his neck.

He pulls back, "I hurt you, and I am so very sorry, Regina."

And she doesn't know what to do with this apology, and no one has every apologized before for the pain they metered out to her, and her confusion must show on her face because his devastation only grows and he tucks her against his side, hands in her hair and she falls asleep like that, warm in his embrace, his care and his apology ringing through her mind.

* * *

Walter knocks on the door, his blonde head poking in after Robin grumbles out a decidedly unfriendly 'what', and it's morning, Regina has slept through the whole night and she feels no less tired and she doesn't even try to extricate herself from Robin's arms as Walter looks, and the man fidgets with the hilt his knife, "Forgive me," he says and he looks away with a clearing of his throat.

"What is it?" Robin asks, and he had been spooning her, his hard, muscled body warmth along her back, but he moves away, and rubs his hands over his face as he rises and rounds the bed to stand before Walter.

"Snow White asks audience with the Queen," Walter says and Regina must make some sort of noise because both men turn to her, and she does not want to see her, now or ever, the girl had ripped her mind apart and she will not see the girl again.

Walter raises a hand, as if to calm her, "She didn't make it past the guard at the end of the hall, she's waiting there," Walter looks to Robin, and Robin shakes his head, forcefully and Regina turns over on the bed, faces the balcony.

His hands are on her back as the door creaks shut and he's gathering her up once more, her back to his front, their knees drawn up together, and he kisses the back of her neck after he pushes her hair over one shoulder, he's murmuring words between kisses and it's only when she begins to relax that Regina realizes how tense she'd become, every muscle seized in a fight or flight response to the knowledge of Snow's presence.

"What did the hourglass do?" he asks her.

Regina swallows, and looks out into the early morning sunshine, the forest that stretches out and out, "It showed her my worst memories," she confesses to him, because he trusts her, and in return she will try her best to trust him.

Robin squeezes her, "She says the Blue Fairy gave it to her," he finally asks and Regina closes her eyes in relief, if he had asked what her memories were, she knows she could not tell him, not now, perhaps not ever, and she would have left them buried if Snow had not dug them up.

"Fairies don't deal in Dark Magic," Regina answers and it's been true all her life, no fairy touches Dark Magic, they rarely touch anything but their own dust.

He breathes against her neck, kisses her once more, "Shall I uncover the truth here?" he asks her, and it's the teasing tone that has her rolling over in his embrace, swatting at his chest and he catches her hand, kisses her knuckles. But he's serious, she can see the conviction in his eyes, and he will discover what happened, and for her, always for her.

* * *

"I've grown fond of you," Granny says, and she's entered the room without knocking, is standing at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed.

Regina raises an eyebrow, "How entirely unwise," she deadpans and keeps her face emotionless as Granny snorts.

"Why?" Regina asks, and Granny rounds the bed, pets Regina's hair off her forehead.

The old woman looks troubled and it takes a while before she speaks, her hand running over Regina's hair, "You remind me of myself," she finally answers and it's not what Regina had expected, "When I was young, when I was _turned_," Granny spits and she turns and sits heavily on the edge of the bed, heavy enough to bounce Regina slightly, "I felt so betrayed, so angry, and I lashed out at every one and thing I could reach."

Granny looks down to the floor, hands clasped in her lap, "I let myself believe it was the wolf, doing all that damage, causing all that death," and Granny's fingers are painfully entwined, "but there is no difference, I am the wolf."

Regina has nothing to say, watching the old woman, sunshine on her lined face, and Granny has never before looked as old as she does now, filled with sorrow and remorse and hatred.

Granny turns to her, shaking her head and she's got a tortured smile as she snatches Regina's hand up into her hold, "I have tried so hard, and so long, to make up for what I did, it still haunts me. I close my eyes at night and I see faces, all the faces of those I killed," she clutches at her chest, above her heart, "You remind me of myself, Regina."

"That's really quite vain of you," Regina whispers and she doesn't know what to do with this emotional mess Granny has spilled before her, because nurturing may come easy when she's in front of a child, but comforting an old woman is infinitely harder, more difficult.

But Granny snorts, shoves Regina's hand away.

"How does Ruby feel of this fondness?" Regina asks, because Regina can imagine exactly how she feels.

"The girl isn't my keeper, nor I hers, she'll have her friends, and I'll have mine," Granny answers and Regina has to look away, embarrassed by how touched she is to be referred to as a friend by this old woman, this old wolf, but Granny had helped her with Henry in Storybrooke, cursed though she was, and she taught Regina to swaddle the baby, had been the only person trusted with baby sitting him on the rare occurrences that he needed sitting.

"Let's get you dressed, you lazy royal," the old woman says, gruff, with venom in her tone but softness in her eyes.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	26. Chapter 26

A woman walks into the hall, a little girl on either side of her, their little hands held tightly.

Arthur watches her pass by the door he monitors and it's only when the woman approaches Regina and Roland that he cries out a hurried 'hey'.

The woman pays him no mind and she stops before Regina's sitting place, her head tilts, gaze traveling from Roland in Regina's lap and up to Regina's hardly brushed hair, and the woman nods like she's gleaned some insight.

Regina waves Arthur away, intrigued.

"These are my daughters," she announces, looks first to the right at the darker skinned of the two children, and then to the left at the red haired child, "June, and July."

Regina pushes Roland off her lap, stands on legs that seem very indifferent about holding her up. Regina holds a hand out against the wall and nods slowly at the girls, and they look nervous, but their mother carries on.

"Girls, show the Queen," the girls look up at Regina, then to their mother, and the woman nods, smiles, her brusque demeanor melting away before the faces of her children, "Go on, my darlings, its safe."

Regina opens her mouth to speak, and promptly shuts it as the red haired girl, eight years old maybe, steps forward, dropping her mother's hand and her eyes scrunch shut and magic snaps into the air, an audible crack sounding and the cushion Regina had been sitting on flies across the hall, thumps against the wall and stays stuck there. Roland claps his hands before tugging at Regina's skirt excitedly, and Regina places a hand on the top of his head.

"Now you, June," the woman urges and Regina turns her gaze to the other girl, who's attached herself to her mother's leg, but she opens her hand, palm up and her eyes are open, looking up at Regina as a flower blooms from her hand, vibrant and beautiful and Roland squeals in delight.

"Ohhh," he gasps and he draws forward towards the flower, till he is cross-eyed looking at it he is so close, "It's so pretty!" and he is in awe.

The little girl, perhaps six years old, smiles, looks down, her shoulders hunching up, "Thank you," she says and it's so quiet Regina can barely hear it.

"Your daughters have magic," Regina surmises and she looks up at the woman, tanned with sunbleached hair a stark almost white, the woman nods.

"Go play with the boy," the woman says and Regina watches intently as the three children meander only a few feet away, and Roland looks like he will faint when the girl June places the flower in his hands.

"You're teaching the boy, I've heard," the woman says, and her blunt tone has returned full force.

"Not that it's your business, but yes," Regina confirms and she leans harder against the wall, her legs trembling and it seems the gossip mill knows her every move, the knowledge leaves her bitter.

The woman nods, her lips pursed and she looks at her daughters and back to Regina, "I'd ask you to teach my own children how to wield their gifts, Your Majesty," she doesn't look like she asks for much, more likely demands and is given. Regina thinks she remembers this woman, she'd been in Storybrooke, had kept both her children through the curse, but Regina had not spoken to her, no more than glanced at her in the almost thirty years spent cohabitating in the little coastal hamlet.

"A presumptuous thing to ask," Regina huffs, and she swallows, her shoulder meeting the wall softly, she ignores the scrutiny the action brings, "I'm no schoolmarm."

"You should sit before you faint," the woman says and it's just as blunt as anything else that has come from her mouth.

Regina holds up her chin, remains exactly where she is, "If you're looking for Hogwarts, I'm afraid you're thinking of the wrong realm, dear."

"There is no one else," the woman says, and she's got bright green eyes, cutting and flinty and anger boils, but not at Regina, "the fairies don't meddle with human casters," and she spits that out with enough venom to drop a bison, "there is no other Master in this castle, I will not trek into the wilderness in search of something I have right before me."

"You would trust me with your children?" Regina finally asks, she knows all the woman had said is true, but the fact remains that Regina is the Evil Queen, and this woman must be truly desperate to ask her to train her daughters. Who would trust their children with the Evil Queen?

The woman's eyes travel across Regina's face, flick up and down her body, her lips still pursed, "I lived in the village of Loderlaum, east before the mountains."

Regina thinks back, Loderlaum had been the home of the majority of her Black Guards, prosperous and sprawling, the village was an asset that she clung to during Snow's little war to regain her thrown. But even still-

The woman looks at her, stares at her, and Regina finds herself uncomfortable in the intensity that is thrown at her, "The Council sent a raven to King Leopold months before his death, our crops had not grown because of drought and we begged the good King for aid," she finally turns her head away, looks to the giggling children, "he sent one hundred gold dragoons for a village of thousands," and it's acid she's spewing with her words, "and then he was dead."

Regina works her jaw, turns herself to look at the children, July is throwing cushions everywhere, cracks ripping through the air, Roland jumping up and down crying 'that one, now that one,' June's flower still cradled in his tiny hands. The woman goes on, "and the kingdom was in turmoil, all crying foul and murder, and treachery."

And those crying had all been correct, Regina thinks, she'd murdered him in his own bed, a treason he thought never to guard himself from.

"But we were desperate, and they sent _you_ a raven with a note of loyalty. You came not long after," the woman continues and those green eyes are back on her but Regina will not look, "you left your guards behind you and strode out alone into a field, kneeled in the dirt and dug your hands into the dry earth. For hours you stayed there, and I stayed and watched you, Your Majesty. You grew pale, for a time it looked like you'd fainted, but your guards didn't look worried."

"I made the crops grow," Regina remembers.

"You did, Your Majesty," the woman agrees, "they shot up all around you in the last hour before sunset."

"I fail to see the correlation between my green thumb and the wellbeing of your children," Regina says, and she turns to those green eyes.

"I suppose, then, that my reasons remain my own," the woman volleys back.

Roland comes skipping forward, holding out a new flower that June has grown, his grin spreads across his face, "Regina, here, look what she made you," and he shoves the new flower into her hand, and it's a black flower that glistens, like it's sparkled with tiny diamonds and it is beautiful.

"Thank you, dear," Regina says to the girl who shies away before scampering off with Roland and her sister, the boy wants to show them his room, and his toys, and he has four books that they absolutely must see.

"What's your name?" Regina asks, looks to the woman.

"Adrienne Arment," she answers.

Regina lets out a breath, and Roland could use company, and both girls are powerful, dangerous to leave untrained, just like Roland. "I'll teach them what I can," she finally says and she thinks of the time she has left, thinks of what is most important to teach these magical children.

Adrienne nods her head, turns her ear and listens to the cracking of magic and squealing of children down the hall, "Can they remain and play with the boy?"

"His name is Roland," Regina says, and it's sharp without need, and she feels dizzy.

The woman nods, "Can they remain and play with Roland?"

"Yes," Regina answers, and to keep his delight ringing through the air she'd have agreed to almost anything.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Adrienne inclines her head, not quite a bow, and she calls the girls out of Roland's room, tells them to meet her for lunch and to listen well and be respectful of Roland's minders.

* * *

She's stayed awake for dinner, waiting for Robin to return, "Roland says you've procured yourself a gaggle of little minions," Robin grins and he pulls her down to his lap, she allows him exactly five seconds before she extracts herself and embarrassment colors her cheeks uncontrollably as she looks and sees eyes on her, Merry Men's smiling eyes and she cringes, and she frowns at Robin, and his eyes twinkle.

It upsets her.

And she snipes and snaps at Robin for the rest of the meal, biting words and scathing tone and at first its confusion on his face, but the longer it goes the angrier he grows, she can read it in the straight line of his shoulders, the tensing of his jaw, and it's satisfaction she feels.

"What's wrong?" he growls at her when they're in her quarters finally alone after the meal is done and Roland is sleeping in his room, he'd asked for a story and Regina had laid in his bed with him and told him of Ser Elnet, who'd cleaved a mountain in two with his claymor.

Regina doesn't pretend to not understand, and she says something, something acidic straight in his face and he moves towards her, and he would never hut her, he'd promised, and she knows that, truly, but she flinches back from him, hand flung out to immobilize him if she needs to, no man will ever raise a hand to her again.

He stops, takes a deep breath, "I've upset you" he says, and it's with forced calm, hands raised and he takes a slow step towards her now, until he can grasp at her upper arms gently.

Regina looks away from him, her hand now flat against his chest.

"and I would like to know what is responsible," he grasps her chin, points her eyes up at him and this isn't the fight she'd expected. It's not really a fight at all.

"I find your public displays of affection towards me unappealing," she finally tells him and his brow scrunches.

"You dislike my affections?" Robin says and his hands leave her, and he sounds thrown off and angry again.

"Robin," she breathes out, "no," and he looks at her, head tilted, eyes narrowed, like she's a puzzle or a riddle. Regina turns her back to him, arms crossed, "You pulled me into your lap," she says, and it's hard to find the words, because it's a mishmash of feelings in her chest, unattractively messy, and Leopold had done that at feasts and banquets when he'd had too much wine, he'd pull her to his lap and her skin would crawl, his hands on her and his loyal Lords and Ladies would look on with eyebrows raised and it wasn't him they raised their brows at, but her, as if _she'd_ climbed on top of him.

Robin's has a hand on her back, "That's what upset you?"

"People were watching," Regina mumbles, and it's quiet, and they had been, with smiles instead of judgment, but watching all the same.

His arms wrap around her, slowly, and if she wanted to pull away she has every opportunity, but she has no wish to leave his embrace, he tucks his chin on the top of her head, and she rests her arms over his own wrapped around her middle, her weight leaning back against him.

"I'll refrain from my indulgences when there are people's eyes on us," he says, and then he tucks his head down, mouth next to her ear, breath moving strands of hair about the side of her face, "as long as I have free reign when we are alone," and he's got that awful grin on his face, she can feel it.

"And what would you do with free reign, thief?" Regina asks, it's a rumble from her chest.

"Take you against the wall," he answers immediately, growling in her ear and his hands start roaming her body, grasping, squeezing, caressing, and crushing her against him. "Have you screaming so loudly you're hoarse the next day," Regina's bites her lips.

"Free reign on a Queen," Regina husks and tilts her head up and back to glance at him, "and that's all you can muster."

He spins her around, mouth on hers and he's bending her head back, hands in her hair, holding her in place and its passion and want, and it makes her head spin. She walks him backwards until the back of his knees touch the bed and he sprawls back on it, grinning that grin at her. She crawls on all fours over him, sinks down on him and he's half hard already, and she grinds on him, kissing him, a hand at the back of his neck pulling him closer.

"You're magnificent," he groans and has his hands on her thighs, before spreading them across the small of her back, starts her rocking against him.

"Robin!" Little John is knocking at the door, his voice urgent, and Robin eases her off him, they share a worried glance before he walks to the door and opens it.

Regina brushes her hair with her fingers, stands from the bed and stands behind Robin.

Little John's eyes are wide, shaken, there's blood on the drawn blade he holds, "The castle is under attack," he says and runs off, knocking on other doors, screaming, and the people he wakes grab weapons and wake others and Robin rushes to his boots, pulling them on.

"Regina, what of the shield?" he loops his belt on, hands checking the position of his dagger, and next it's his quiver being thrown over a shoulder and across his back.

"I don't know, no enemy could make it through!" Regina cries and she throws on her shoes hurriedly.

He's got a hand on her elbow and he turns her, "Regina, the shield has been down since I found you with Snow."

"What?" she breathes.

"Roland told me, when he told me to find you, and how. The shield is down, Regina." He turns her fully to him, a hand on each of her elbows, and the clamor in the hall is deafening, "Can you turn it back on?"

Regina shakes her head, looks down and imagines the dusty tome that had the spell written on it, written years and years, hundreds of years ago at the building of this keep, "It doesn't fail," she grabs at his shirt and there is a voice calling for Robin in the hall but she keeps him in place, "Not even with the death of the spark."

He looks confused, "Me," Regina explains, "I am the spark, I activated it and it's meant to survive me, it has never failed, Robin. It's off only when it's told to sleep, and I have given no order."

"The spark controls it, you control it?" he asks, and he's moving towards the door, and she moves with him.

"I," she frowns, because that's what…that's what she'd always thought, but half a page had been damaged and she thought

"Robin!" Arthur's voice yells and Robin tears himself away, grabs his bow by the door just as Roland is ushered into the room by Walter.

"The monsters are converging on the south wing," a voice calls and panic has the men moving faster, the south wing holds the most people, and but a handful of them were warriors of any kind.

The little boy flings himself at Regina's legs, he's halfway to crying, eyes wide and she leans down and picks him up, carries him on her hip as she chases Robin to the hall.

"Don't let the beasts touch you!" John bellows, and he's got haunted eyes, "Their claws are poison!"

"We need archers," someone else says and Regina shakes her head, no, but Robin is the best archer in his band, and his band is the best in the realm.

"Protect Roland," Robin says, latches at the back of her neck and kisses her like he will never see her again and she grabs at his shirt, his eyes are hard when he pulls away, "Protect yourself", and Regina can hear the inhuman screeches of the witch's horde of monstrosities echoing from the windows, and it's louder than is bearable and Regina suspects some mindgames at play, a spell to amplify their screams, but that knowledge doesn't stop the frantic beating of her heart.

Robin leaves her, he shoves Arthur at her, Arthur's whose got a blade unsheathed but no quiver on his back, orders the boy to stay with her, and Robin leaves with one backward glance, heavy and terrified and he leaves her with Roland crying on her hip.

Regina thinks of Granny, but she doesn't know where she sleeps, and she thinks of the little girls, Roland's friends, who he has not stopped speaking of and even now he clutches the flower June had given him, but she can't run after them with no idea of where they are.

Her mind is made up even as she moves her feet and Arthur follows her, "Where are we going?" he asks as they leave the hall and Regina is running, running as fast as she can and her dizziness and the weakness fades in the face of her adrenaline and Roland's cries.

She needs to see the book again, that heavy tome, and she's running, careening, towards the west wing, the library hidden under the stairs and the book that taught her the spell for the shield, and she has not looked at it since she was eighteen and she'd just forgotten something, and she'll see it and fix it and the shield will rise again.

there's screams and panicked people and blood, blood on the floor and Regina slips in it twice, falling in it, but she plies herself up, and Roland whimpers as she tells him to be quiet, you need to be quiet, shhh.

Arthur is gone when she reaches the stairs and she whips her head around wildly, but she's alone in the corridor and when did he fall behind? she left him, no, no

Roland whimpers against her neck, and she shushes him, rubs his back and her arms are burning from carrying him and he'll be safe within the library, when they are inside with the door shut and no one knows it exists, save Regina, and there is a lock on it, and he will be safe.

Regina races up to the seventh step, kicks the riser just to the right of the center of the stairs and the stone rumbles under her, she scampers off, looking behind her shoulder for a enemies and when the tunnel it's barely opened, a great maw opening into darkness, Regina shoots inside and tugs on the lever that closes the door.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	27. Chapter 27

Robin wakes, naked and sticky and the room reeks of sex, and Regina lays curled against his side, her hair in knots and tangled and stiff with dried sweat at her hair line, she has never looked more beautiful. Robin drinks her in, hands in her hair, and he pushes the blanket that covers them both down, down to her thighs, there are light bruises on her hips and on her waist, impressions left by his fingers, and there's more than one mark on her neck, a dark bruise forming at the junction between her neck and shoulder and he imagines he can see the dents his teeth had made in her skin.

He'd lost control of himself, he must have, because he can't remember biting her hard enough to bruise her, and he can't let that happen again, he can't get carried away, but he knows it's impossible, her body is made for sin and control means nothing when he can make her scream his name, and the sight of her even now stirs lust in him and he's got a vision of waking her up with kisses, caresses, waking her with his face between her thighs, have her moaning and panting and writhing before she wakes up with her disgruntled morning frown.

Robin detangles himself from her, throws his feet to the ground and scrubs his face, his eyes scrunched tightly shut.

He rises without looking at her, walks to the washroom and a grin grows on his face as he passes the mirror, he twists to see more of his back, his shoulders, Regina's nails have savaged him, long, raised and red, the evidence of her own loss of control is there on his own body.

The cold water does nothing to cleanse his thoughts, even as it cleanses his body, and he washes himself quickly before drawing a warm bath for Regina.

He wakes her with a simple kiss, gentle with his hand cupping her jaw and she's glorious and her beautiful body is naked, bare, she smiles with no shame at his kiss, stretching when he pulls away and he watches completely enraptured as her spine arches off the bed, arms raised, she's a work of art.

It's akin to torture when he leaves her, but he does, and he's searching for the healer that had knitted the wreck of her arm back together, scoured the infection from her, and Robin knows that her illness is more likely a magical malady, but he will take his man of medicine first, before searching elsewhere.

* * *

The healer is gone.

Left the castle before the shield was raised to search for a brother apparently, and Robin earns himself a few confused expressions when he asks after the man.

He does not explain his need to the gossips that ask question after question, will not speak of Regina's waning health, the lifeless color of her lips, the dizziness she tries and fails to hide, and he has only just received her, a gift from a god he no longer believed in, and illness will not take her.

But he need only approach a healer, and they are already shaking their head at him (and bitterness grows in Robin, hostility a venomous poison through his blood, because they do not entertain him because they know he comes for her, and surely there must be one who would not watch her waste away, but they all shake their head at him), and he grows more and more desperate, until he comes to the last one, and she's not a healer at all, but a midwife and she looks at him, and tsks her tongue.

"Tell me symptoms," she requests after drawing him to a corner, and she's got dark eyes and there's the glint of cold intelligence and it comforts Robin more then he'd admit.

And he lists it all as he knows it, fatigue, she sleeps and sleeps and looks no better for it, the dizziness, and she can hardly stand without a steadying hand, the strength draining from her limbs in seconds, she would sink to the ground without aid, he'd helped her hold a cup of water to her lips, pretended her hand was not shaking. Regina is pale, her lips colorless, deep, dark circles under her eyes, her breath becomes short, and she cannot eat without sickness shortly after.

"Is there confusion?" the midwife asks, her brow knitted at the bridge of her nose.

"Pardon?" Robin doesn't know what she means.

The woman's hand gesticulates before her, abstract movements, "Does she forget where she is? What she was doing, is there confusion?"

"No," Robin says and he's thinking back, and no, she is clear, but he remembers the panic fit, and she'd been lost in memories, and the nightmares after dragging her through the Weeping, but no, that is trauma, not confusion and he does not mention them.

At the end of all that she is no use, and she is sorry, and she looks with earnest eyes and tells him she is sorry, she says _I'm sorry_, and the _for your loss_ remains unsaid.

The whole morning spent hunting through the castle has left him desperate and angry and he needs to feel her, to look upon her face, to be with his brothers and his son, to sit with his family and forget his problems for a time. And he doesn't understand his own silliness until he stands at the threshold to the hall the Merry Men have claimed, the hall at the end of which Regina's chambers sit, Robin's chambers too now he thinks, because Regina sits on the ground, on a cushion and she's upright only because of John's hands on her shoulders, and she is beautiful and she is sick and she turns to look at him and he runs to her.

Hands cup her face, her breath is short, heavy, and she looks dazedly up at him and terror races through him and the midwife flashes before his eyes, _for your loss _she'd left unsaid, but he will not lose Regina, he will not.

Something tangible leaks from his hands, he can feel something leaving him, going to her, and some color returns to her cheeks at that moment. He would give her everything, all of him, it floods through him, he would give her everything, living would be endless pain without her and he'd felt the same at Marian's passing, his wonderful wife and she'd taken the best bits of him with her, and he'd been hollow for so long, the loss of Regina would shatter the shell he'd managed to piece back together, another love gone, and nothing will remain of him.

Purple swells in her eyes, magic swirling there, and Robin can see tendrils of it leaking from his hands, straight into her skin, "Stop," she gasps and her hand comes to his chest, but she is still too pale, still too sick and he will strengthen her and he can't stop, he has more to give.

Purple leaks from her nose and ears, smoky, it puffs like an exhaled breath in the cold, and her hand grasps at his shirt, fistful of it and she pushes at him, and his hands stay locked cradling her jaw, "Stop," she says again and she's pushing at him.

He can't, he can't, he wants too now, she looks to be in pain and she's shaking, as if caught with a seizure and her purple swirling eyes roll back into her head, "stop," she breathes.

It's Little John that breaks them apart, as Robin's hands are torn from her, Regina falls to the ground, leaden, heavy, her back lands with a thump and the sound of the hall comes rushing in on Robin all at once, the voices of multiple men calling out, concerned, confused, and agitated.

"What did you do?" Little John asks, Robin is wide eyed and his gaze goes from Regina, unmoving on the ground with that purple mist exhaling from her lungs with every breath, from her ears in skinny tendrils, and Roland is clutching at her, shaking her, and she doesn't move, and back up to Little John and the big man looks stupefied and afraid.

"I don't know," Robin gasps, he reaches for Regina, tries crawling to her, but John holds him back, wide eyes glaring from her still form on the ground and back to Robin.

"Just," and the large man holds him in place, shaking his head, and Arthur races up from the other end of the hall, steps on food, and knocks over glasses in his haste and he stops on the opposite side of Roland, feels for her pulse, checks her breathing, the young man looks terrified.

"Is she," the sentence drops and Robin clings to John's restraining arm, falls against it, it's all that's holding him up and he has done this to her, god, god no he hadn't meant t-

"Alive," Arthur says, mostly to himself and murmuring sounds and Robin looks and men are hovering, had abandoned their plates and are standing over Regina with concern, but wary and more than one glares distrustfully at the purple now slowly, slowly wafting through her nose but there is an audible sigh of relief when her eyes blink open, dark eyes, dark brown instead of purple and she groans.

"Is this a spectator sport," she bites, and Arthur helps her up, holds onto her and terror is still in him, Arthur is clutching at her.

"Robin, it's alright," she says, shaky, swaying, god what had he done god, she reaches for him, tiny hand held palm up and he flinches away, afraid of what his touch will do.

"I'm sorry," more sorry then he has ever been, and magic is not something to play with, he is a fool, he turns his head away, away from what he'd done, he had hurt her, Robin had held her in his arms and said no harm would ever touch her and now it is he who has harmed her and he is a fool

"Robin, look at me," she pleads, grabs at him, is pulling instead of pushing and Arthur still has a firm grip on her, Roland is clutching around her waist, his men are silent watching and it all melts away as he looks at her. Her eyes, dark pools and there's nothing but care (_love)_ there, pointed at him.

His hands move on their own, cradle her as before, and she sighs at his touch.

"I taught Roland to light a candle with his magic," she says, smiles at him, and his heart breaks at that smile, he does not deserve that smile, "I'll teach you too, Robin, to control your magic if you'd allow it."

The kiss he lands on her mouth is long and wet and desperation tinges it with animalistic fever, anger at himself, hatred of the death that hovers over her, rage at the cards dealt them, they all spill into his desperation and he devours her, bends her head back, hands in her hair, and she gives to him, opens and gasps, hands on his chest and lets him taste her and take her, all tongue and heavy breathing and when he pulls back he keeps his eyes closed, lands his forehead against hers and he is exhausted.

"Robin, I'm alright," she whispers to him, caresses him.

Men are murmuring still and Walter calls out, "Let the woman eat," and it snaps Robin out of his daze, but he holds her for the rest of the meal and for long hours later until she's stumbling, he helps her to her bed, notices the long glances thrown from his men, the frowns they wear, and they don't understand because he will not lose her, he will not.

He has to help her into her nightgown her hands are shaking too badly, and they both say nothing, ignore it, and he slams his eyes shut to block sight of her body, tempting even now as she is shaking from exhaustion and her eyes droop half shut.

Her voice is heavy, laced with sleep, and she'll teach Roland, and Robin, teach them both to work their gifts and when he'd told her how sorry he was for hurting her, her eyes had narrowed, confused and had nothing to say in return.

When she's fallen asleep, peaceful and quiet and achingly beautiful, Robin pulls his boots back on, shuts her door and leans his back against it, empty gaze looking at nothing and hopelessness is falling on him, heavy on his heart and life has never been fair, but this is cruelty and he thinks his legs will fail him, until Little John tugs on him, sits him on a cushion and shoves a glass of wine in his hand.

These men are his friends, John and Arthur, and Arthur is very, very drunk and he's got a dark gaze, eyes glancing at Regina's door, mouth twisting up before looking away, "She's sleeping," Robin tells the other man, to reassure him, Arthur nods at him.

Much later, its dark outside, and Robin is drunk as well, and Arthur slurs when he tells him about the older sister that he barely remembers, dark haired and dark eyed, she'd been murdered, beaten, raped, when Arthur was about as old as Roland but it haunts him, follows him through his years, her dark eyes smiling at him, and Robin knew this, and Arthur only speaks of it after ingesting too much drink, and Arthur says he sees his sister there, when he looks at Regina, and Robin knew this too.

Robin slurs about how Regina is his soul mate, the lion says so, and that's about the time Little John takes his wine from him, but Robin fights until he has it back, and he explains in his own drunken way how he cares for her, and it's actually the word love that spills from his lips, but he doesn't recall that when he thinks back to this blurry night.

He stumbles into Regina's bed, holds her, her warm body soothing him, and she doesn't wake even as he jostles her, molds her body to his own as he spoons her, wraps his arms around her, he breathes her in, the vanilla of her hair.

* * *

Snow White.

The name elicits a broken gasp from Regina, and she hasn't moved from her spot on the bed, looking soft and mussed with bedhead curls, Walter reaches out a hand, shaking his head, "She didn't make it past the guard at the end of the hall, she's waiting there," and Robin wonders how well Snow took to being told to halt in her own castle.

Regina turns on the bed, her back to Walter and to Robin, her knees are up, her back is tense and Robin sends Walter away with a jut of his chin, and Walter picks up on the order to send Snow White away without even hearing a word.

He crawls into bed with her, kisses her, and holds her, and the hangover he has, the headache pounding behind his eyes, lessens when she's in his arms, and he speaks but says nothing, and kisses small kisses until she relaxes against him, tense no more and her breathing is normal, easy.

"What did the hourglass do?" he asks, and she'd been laid low by it, and he has not asked because he was afraid she would not answer, but he must know, now, and he's been able to make himself forget the danger in this castle, the danger that cloaks itself in care and friendship and what makes it worse is that that care, that friendship that Snow craves, it's as real as the danger, intertwined together and Regina can't have one without the other.

"It showed her my worst memories," Regina says, trembling, and Robin thinks of the moniker she'd had before the Evil Queen, and her worst memories must involve the old man who'd made her his wife, Snow's father, because Kings do not marry their pure young wives and not touch them.

He holds her tighter against him, nuzzles his nose in her hair, "She says the Blue Fairy gave it to her," he remembers.

"Fairies don't deal in Dark Magic," she tells him, she is sure, conviction in her voice, and Robin himself can attest that fairies are practically scornful of magic not their own, and that hourglass had no dust powering it, only that glowing red, ominous as it hung in the air.

"Shall I uncover the truth here?" Robin tries to put lightness in his tone, and is rewarded for it when she turns and smacks at him, he holds her hand, kisses her knuckles, looks at her, and he'll find who did this too her, and what he will do to them? He does not know.

* * *

Robin wakes with the weight of four year old elbowing him square in the gut, he rolls with an oof away from Roland, and the boy is wearing a smirk, a sly little one under innocent eyes as he cuddles against Regina, exactly where Robin had been until rudely awakened.

"My boy," Robin growls, rubbing at what he is sure is going to be a huge bruise, he's probably bleeding internally actually.

Regina wakes then, and the smile that grows on her face at finding Roland next to her, half on top of her, has Robin forgetting his ire, she's half asleep and the smile brightens her whole face, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

"Good morning, dear," she tells the boy, a hand in his curls, cradling his head to her, and the boy lets out a long sigh, like he has found heaven.

* * *

There is one more person that Robin must see, not a healer, not a scholar, a blind old man, Walter's grandfather, the man has milky eyes, unseeing eyes, but Robin walks through the door and is greeted by name before saying a word.

His name is Emil.

"I'd ask you to use your gift," Robin asks, and he's served Emil a cup of tea, no sugar, and the old man smiles at him, he is missing all but four of his teeth, he is so old as to appear ancient, bent and thin, his grin stretches across his face, wrinkles everywhere.

"More specific, boy, I am overflowing with talents," and the man wheezes out a laugh, hearty and long, his love of life still strong.

Robin swallows, smiles at the old man's antics, and it's a blessing that Emil can live comfortably in this castle, with food and warmth, now that time is passing once more, he looks frailer every day.

"You know exactly of what I speak, old man," Robin says with a shake of his head and his grin fades, "I'd ask you to see what lies ahead."

Emil rocks back in his seat, places his teacup beside him on the table, "You know there are times that I cannot."

Robin nods, knows well that Emil has rules, and whether they are of his own creation or some higher beings decree, he does not know, and there was a time that Robin would rather throw the tea in Emil's face then serve it to him, Marian had been kind to Emil, caring and loving, had loved the man like the father she should have had, and when she'd died, Emil had sobbed, old even then, he'd wept and his gnarled old hands had covered his face.

"Is now such a time, Emil?" not again, Robin wants to say, wants to demand.

Emil closes his milky eyes, takes a deep breath and when he opens them he is frowning, "I cannot say it plainly to you, Robin."

And of course not, because magic is nothing without a little show.

"Share what you can, Emil please, for any love your bear me."

The old man nods, "A moment will come, Robin, and all things diverge from that moment. One decision will bring death, will bring pain and suffering and terrible sorrow. Another will bring happiness like you have never known, I see children there, Robin, loud little brats that I will not live to see, a brother for Roland, and sisters."

Robin shakes in his seat and the old man is not ignorant to Robin's sudden smile though he's blind as a bat, in Robin's mind there are little girls that are little replicas of Regina, with dimples that make Robin melt.

"The moment, when is it?" Robin begs, "The decision I must make, I beg you tell me, which will bring that happiness to me?" Robin kneels before the old man, grabs one twisted hand in his own, "Emil, please."

"The decision is not yours to make, boy," Emil tells him, raises a hand to Robin's shoulder, "it rests upon your Queen."

Robin begs to know more, and the old man shakes free, "I have already told you more than I ought, and none of it can you repeat, not even to your lady love. Promise me, boy, promise me or the repercussions will be on your own head."

And he promises the old man.

The vision of those little girls play in his mind after, and he smiles imagining them, their dark curls, and giggling madly, happy and lovely, fluttering around his thoughts like lovely little butterflies and when he sees Regina he can't contain himself and he can imagine her as big as a whale, pregnant with a child, their child, grumbling that she'll never let him touch her again, and his heart swells, a pressure in his chest that is hope and happiness and love and he pulls her to him, "Roland says you've procured yourself a gaggle of little minions," Robin says, and Roland had gushed and gushed about June and July, magic just like him, two little girls.

Regina pulls away from him, blushing and he can read the displeasure that rolls off her, and even if he couldn't the passive aggressive snipes throughout dinner would certainly have clued him in.

The vision of their beautiful children fades away in the face of her verbal lashing, and it's so thorough that the Merry Men begin to cringe when she opens her mouth, but he can see by the way they look at him that they assume he deserves it. And he looks at some and can plainly see that they believe this is his upcomins for hurting her the day before, but she had forgiven him for that (though he will never forgive himself), and he doesn't know what has caused this.

He snaps when they are alone, and it's acid still spewed at him and he steps towards her, anger boiling him from the inside out and it all dies a painful death when she flinches from him, hand splayed out to stop him from getting closer, the betrayal and fear that flashes through her face before she locks down her features is like a bucket of cold water drenching him and he stops.

"I've upset you," he says and he walks slowly, aware that even with her illness that she could still rip his skin from his bones, set fire to him maybe, she's creative to say the least but he is not afraid, not of her, and he grasps her upper arms softly, "and I would like to know what is responsible."

"I find your public displays of affection towards me unappealing," she finally says, looking up at him and its vulnerability that's shining from those deep dark pools.

He lets her go immediately, will not touch her if she does not wish it, but these truthful words cut deep, sting worse than all the barbs unleashed upon him at dinner, "You dislike my affections?" and the hurt turns to anger somewhere between his heart and his mouth.

"Robin, no," Regina sounds exasperated, hands thrown up between them, and then she turns away, hugging herself, her back ramrod straight, shoulders up, "You pulled me into your lap," she says it like it's shameful.

"That's what upset you?" and he puts fingertips to her back, and she does not draw away.

"People were watching," she whispers, and it is shame weaved into her voice, and it's painful to her for a reason that Robin does not know, perhaps will never know and he'll respect her in this, he'll respect her in all things.

He wraps his arms around her and Regina leans into his embrace, her spine relaxing against him, he clasps his hands over her middle, over the womb that could one day hold their child and he would do anything she asked of him.

"I'll refrain from my indulgences when there are people's eyes on us, as long as I have free reign when we are alone."

Her body falls deeper into his, rubs against him in all the most perfect of places, "What would you do with free reign, thief," and her voice is dripping sex.

"Take you against the wall," Robin says it and sees it, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands clawing at his shoulders, head thrown back, screaming his name as he fucks her, "Have you screaming so loudly you're hoarse the next day," he's groping at her, her hips, her sides, her tits, and he'll do it, make her scream so loud that his Merry Men will blush and avoid her eyes in the morning, a little revenge for scorching him for hours, a pleasant revenge at least.

"Free reign on a Queen and that's all you can muster," she growls at him, and her voice is like velvet and sandpaper all at once, urging him on.

He spins her, claims her mouth and she's moaning, kissing her is addictive, and he's already fallen too deep to ever want to climb out, like a drunk at the bottom of a bottle, it surprises him when his knees hit the bed, and he sprawls back looking up at her smirk, the corner of her mouth upraised and that self-satisfied look in her eye has him hardening.

Regina crawls on top of him, grinds on him and kisses him and moans, and she's magnificent, he's burning where her skin touches his and he's drowning in her, drowning with a smile on his face.

"Robin!"

It's the pounding of desperate knuckles against the door, booming and it was John's voice and Robin is up as soon as Regina slides off his lap, at the door and John has blood on his blade, on his right shoulder, "The castle is under attack," he booms and then he's gone, knocking and yelling.

Robin runs to his boots, "Regina," she's pulling on her own shoes, "What of the shield?" it should have come up before this, and he'll rake himself over the coals for it later, because other things had seemed more important, but they weren't, not as important as people and lives and the wellbeing of the keep.

Regina throws her hands up, "I don't know," Regina cries and it's shrill, defensive, "no enemy could make it through!"

She doesn't know, god, he reaches out and snags her elbow, spins her to face him, "Regina, the shield has been down since I found you with Snow," he should have asked earlier, it should have been the first question, she hadn't even realized, god.

Her eyes are wide, "what?" she's shaking her head.

Voices are yelling in the hall and she's speaking of magic and sparks and the shield sleeping, even in the best of times Robin thinks he would not understand, and at this moment he barely hears her words over the monkeys, the monkeys screech and screech and Roland cries when he's pushed at Regina, and cries in Regina's arms when she puts him on her hip.

Robin leaves them, with his arrows and his bow, because people are being slaughtered and he never misses his target.

He pushes Arthur at her, Arthur who sees his lost sister in Regina's dark hair and dark eyes, Arthur who is useless with a bow but deadly with a blade, "Protect Roland," he begs, "Protect yourself."

He kisses her and leaves, looks back once and is gone.

Running, running until he's got a monster in his sight, it takes two arrows to fell the beast and there are more then he can count, there are people on the floor, bodies, people already dead and he can't look, he can't. He shoots arrow after arrow after arrow, John by his side doing the same, and a bow is a ranged weapon, Robin attempts to keeps it that way for as long as he can, retreating from claws and teeth, until his quiver is empty.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	28. Chapter 28

His hand pulls back to draw an arrow from his quiver, and clasps at empty air, there is no great moment of shock, no opportunity for a foe to take advantage for Robin's hand flies to his waist as he flings his bow aside, his dagger is sharp in his hand, he spins the blade and he's got it in his fist and when the monkey comes at him he swipes the foot long steel straight through its eye, a downward thrust that kills the monster, and it falls with a gurgle.

John shoots three arrows, and that is the last of the supply, and monkeys have stopped pouring through the windows, but instead are among them, crawling everywhere, chittering, chattering, screeching and now it's hand to hand, and the blood really starts to spill.

"The claws are poison!" someone screams and at least it's easy to tell friend from foe, if it has fur, stab it, slash it, and Robin finds himself lost in the frenzy of it, the rush of his blood through his ears and the feel of it, the monsters blood, slippery and wet and red, running down from his blade onto his hand, he dances and he weaves, avoids teeth and sharp talons, and kills.

Others are not as quick, nor as graceful and the monkey's talons make a particular sound when they meet human flesh, a ripping and the sound rings across the dining chamber, the wounds the claws leave behind pulse a lurid green for a moment, Robin doesn't remember how he came to be in the dining hall, and after the ripping sound, that lurid green, comes screaming, wounded men and women screaming and convulsing on the floor.

* * *

Snow has a brutality to her actions, surprising to see in a princess, she stomps and blunders through, a short sword in one hand, a shield (a white fox wearing a crown ingrained in the white wood) in the other, and stabs and slashes, her mouth downturned, nose scrunched up.

She's a sight to see, and Robin can understand how the people must have seen her. A wild, beautiful woman, the rightful heir, come to save them from an Evil Queen, her dark hair a cloud around her round, pale face, innocent looking even when splattered with blood.

A monkey crashes against her shield, the white wood splinters, Robin can only watch, he is too far away, as the monkey unfurls its claws, swiping a nasty blow straight across Snow's face.

The claws disintegrate into dust upon touching her, and all around Snow a glowing amber second skin thrums into life, hums, and it almost sounds like a lullaby, that humming tune, low and unnatural, it has the tune of a lullaby. The monkey rears back with a screech, staring at the gruesome stumps his claws have become, and Snow pierces it through with her blade and lets it fall to the floor with a wet thump. Snow raises a hand before her eyes, wide eyes and open mouth as she stares at that amber second skin, the lullaby quiets, fades gently into nothing, the amber fades, dimming but Robin senses it now, there waiting to protect her.

Robin is forced to turn away from her, and his last sight of her finds her still standing there with a confused expression, her husband calling to her, defending her as she stares and stares at her hand.

* * *

Robin is backing away from a particularly deft monkey, and it's sneering at him, intelligence and malice in its grotesque face as it swipes a long arm forward at Robin's belly. Robin trips backwards over the leg of a convulsing man, Robin is tired, worn, hadn't even realized the man was there, and the monkey chatters nastily, smiling, its fangs yellow with decay, and launches forward at Robin.

The claws are an inch from Robin's face, his dagger torn from his hand by the monster, when a morningstar crashes against the monkey's skull from the side, and it's all brain matter and blood and bits of skull raining down on Robin. Robin stays there on the floor, gulping, the convulsing man that tripped him has stilled, and Robin looks to the side and sees Farouk with a snarl as he yanks at the morningstar, yanking to free it from the skull it seems reluctant to part from.

Farouk finally jostles the morningstar free and points his hard black eyes to Robin, he throws him a snarling smile and holds up a hand, thumb, pointer, and middle fingers extended, the rest curled in, and Robin nods, let's out an amused breath of laughter. Three times now Farouk has saved Robin's life, the oldest and least trusting Merry Man, Farouk has saved him three times.

The grizzly old man, lean and quick, dashes out once more into the throng of it, the heart of the fight has moved without Robin, and he pants on the ground, snatches his dagger and staggers to his feet, looking around.

Every muscle in his entire is body has that empty feeling, like he could collapse at any moment, but he stands and steps over the dead.

Night has well and truly fallen, it's midnight black out the windows, and there's the bodies of men and monkey alike on the ground, whimpers sound from wounded, Robin makes towards a foe, flinches as that awful ripping sound is heard, followed by terrified screaming.

He's just stabbed the monkey in the back, angled through ribs and into the heart of it, when the entire castle rumbles, shudders under their feet, there's a colossal BOOM that leaves people stumbling and the monkeys beat their tremendous wings, chitter chatter and make to flee, their eyes widened in fear. Bright white patterns are glowing on the floor, the walls, growing out and out from a corner of the room, like lace, and it races and races, thrumming with power and one monkey has a bent wing, has remained standing on it's feet while it's brothers are in the air and when that lace like glow reaches its feet it gives a wailing cry, the white lace climbs up its body, and it bats at it in complete frenzy, screaming screaming, it begins to smell of burnt fur, and that lace seems to dig into its skin, burning burning, smoke curling in thin little streams until the monkey falls to the ground. Robin's eyes widen, the monkey melts into the floor, that white lace pulling it down, the monkey screams and screams and cries and Robin has already turned away when finally silence comes, the silence is thick, a visceral thing.

The monkeys crowd the windows, careful to not touch the stone, fleeing as fast as their wings can go and Robin lets them, has no arrows and no bow, and he does not feel like climbing to a table top to batter at their ankles as others are doing.

He turns on his heel, Regina, Roland, his mind repeats over and over, Regina, Roland. John is next to him, he's limping, but he jogs and keeps pace with Robin, there's the footsteps of others behind Robin, but he doesn't hear, doesn't turn, his thoughts are entirely focused on the dark haired woman and child that need to have remained unharmed.

The long shrill cry of a woman pierces the air, and Robin thinks instantly of Regina, but when he turns the corner it's just a woman, a woman he does not know, she holds a sword against a wounded monkey, the monkey shambles towards her, Robin thinks of the lace and what it did to the monkey with the bent wing, but the lace is not as bright here, nor as consuming. The stone of the east wing is lighter than that of the rest of the castle, and the lace does not thrum through it with the strength found elsewhere, it sputters; it thrums with power on half of the hall, but need fight to stay attached to the lighter colored stone at the other end.

Robin has his dagger in his hand, is running towards the monkey, away from the warmth and beauty of the lace and into this unprotected corner. He pushes the woman away, she flees with no look back, her sword held tightly, Robin faces the stumbling monkey, all the more dangerous for being wounded and now alone.

Purple smoke erupts from thin air, there's a gush of wind, and Regina is behind the monkey.

She is a snarling mess, spit flying from her mouth and she screams, hand warped grotesquely like a claw, nails pointed, long and glowing with magic as she plunges it into the monsters back and it makes an awful sound going through the monkeys skin, it's insides, and the monkey screeches, high and terrified. Regina is smiling, eyes mad and wide and glassy, pupils blown; before she yanks her hand quickly back out of the monster and the monkey falls crying to the floor.

"Regina," Robin calls, and both of Regina's hands, up to her elbows, are soaked in red, wet with blood, she has a pulpy mass in her right hand, and as she drops it to the floor with a splat Robin recognizes what it is. A long segment of intestines, and the monkey she has pulled it from is on the ground, not quite dead.

He approaches her cautiously, pushes his dagger at John to hold out of her line of sight and she's staring at him blankly, glassy eyes staring at him as he gets closer and closer, she's panting and her head tilts when he stops an arm's reach from her.

This is the beast, Robin thinks, the beast behind the beauty. They used to say she could slay ten men, not men but Knights, not ten but a hundred, whole armies, with just her bare hands, a wild, vicious beast on the field who led her Black Guard in a bloodlust, ferocious and terrible, leaving all who defied her choking in her wake.

Robin grasps her arm, her bicep where the blood of the monkeys did not reach, "Regina," he repeats and her head tilts the other way in a fluid motion, her pupils are blown to their limits and her eyes look deranged. Her skin burns, a fever he can read even through the cloth covering her arm, sweat beads at her brow, her cheeks splotchy with color.

"Come back to me," he pleads, steps closer, hand tightening on her bicep.

But she doesn't, still just stands there, silent and watching with those wide eyes, the whites seen all around. Robin embraces her slowly, softly, lightly, holds her against him barely, "Regina, come back to me," he repeats and she's still, not stiff, but unmoving in the loose circle of his arms. She's burning up, her back is wet with sweat.

Robin can read the unease of John behind him, the murmurs of John and Walter, and grizzly old Farouk circles around to Regina's back, his morningstar turned and clutched as if to smack the pommel against Regina's skull, there's pain and torment in old Farouk's eyes but he's looking for the best and fastest way to curb her if she snaps, Robin pulls her in tighter, cradles the back of her head, fingers in her sweat soaked hair, "Come back to me," he demands and his eyes are deadly looking at the oldest, least trusting of his Merry Men. Farouk tilts his head in apology, but does not step away.

Her body trembles, there's a gasp against his neck and Regina's arms come around him, she leaves bloody hand prints on his back as she splays her palms flat, her fingers flat up against him near his shoulders.

Robin repeats her name, rubs his left hand up and down her drenched back, kisses her hair line over and over, for at least two minutes until

"Robin," Regina asks, she takes that last step into him, crushing against him, and her flat palms are suddenly grabbing and pulling at the back of his shirt, desperate to get a hold of him, "Robin," she repeats and she's shaking.

Crying out in relief, Robin pulls her in, arms tight like iron bands around her and he lifts her off the floor a bit, just her toes touching the ground, and Farouk steps back with a grim smile, a nod.

She pulls away, stumbles when her feet touch the ground, her hands are around his neck, and they are slippery with blood, but she pays no mind, "Did they touch you?" Regina asks, her voice is loud, too loud, and her skin is burning. "She cursed the claws, Robin," she's very nearly screaming at him, "Did they touch you?"

Robin cups her cheek, feels her forehead, she's burning, Robin shakes his head at her question, but even with his negative response she is running her hands over him, his shoulders, his back, his chest, restless hands over and over his skin and clothes.

"Roland?" Robin asks, the boy is not with her, where is the boy.

"He's safe," Regina tells him. Her legs give out, she falls against him and his own legs are so weak that they stumble; they both fall to the ground. She gives a sharp cry, lands a jumble half in his lap, she doesn't move, except for a vague arm motion that speaks of incoordination and bone deep weariness, and then her arm drops.

"Regina," Robin calls, and she's laid her head against his shoulder, but he cups the nape of her neck and has her looking up at him, she's burning, eyes glassy with a fever, her lips chapped and parted, her breath heavy through her lips.

"With Snow," she breathes out, "Roland, with," her eyes roll back, Robin shakes her, harder then he'd intended but she blinks her eyes open, "hnnnng," she groans and her neck is loose, her head lolling until it smacks once more against his shoulder.

"Come on," Robin urges, he forces himself up, John comes when he sees the difficulty Robin is experiencing. John takes Regina around the waist, stands her up on legs that buckle under any weight, both her blood soaked hands come up to his broad chest, scuttle there for purchase.

"Robin, she's burning," John says, fear in his voice, the large man is quiet with concern, adjusting his grip on her to hold her more securely.

Robin stumbles and Farouk and Walter come on either side of him, each helping the other stand, "I know," he says, with a shake of his head, because the healers would not hear him out, they will not help her and desperation blends with agony and Robin has no idea what to do. He is tired and sore and he feels helpless for the first time in a long time, looking at Regina in John's grasp.

Walter begins to walk, pulling Robin with him, and John follows, when Regina does not move her feet, John swings her up into his arms, she grumbles, she is still partly aware and she fights for three seconds before she stills. Her body jolts in John's arms when they cross into the bright lace covered half of the hall, and over her own skin the lace crawls up, she gives a quake, a stuttered cry that is neither pain nor pleasure and returns once again to stillness, the light fading from her. John doesn't so much as bat an eye, keeps limping forward, her arms dangling, swaying with each shambling step the large man takes.

Robin doesn't even have the strength to hold himself up, Farouk and Walter are on either side, the three men are all that are holding each other up. Robin thanks John for carrying her.

The big man has no smile for him, "She isn't heavy," he says, limping another step.

* * *

Her chambers are untouched, the door swinging on its hinges, Robin takes her from John and the larger man promises to bring Roland. John has a haunted look, and Robin pretends to not notice the way John wraps his hand around her wrist before he turns and limps out.

She's covered in blood and sweat and dirt, the lace brightens the whole room, light enough to see by without a lamp. Robin walks her to the washroom, undresses her, and draws her a cool bath, not cold, but not warm, and she shudders when he places her in it, her glassy, fever ridden eyes opening half lidded.

"Robin," Regina stutters out, her body curling towards the edge of the tub, clutching at his hand.

He washes her, the blood from her arms, the sweat from her back, washes her long, beautiful hair, she asks after Arthur and he has no answer for her. Robin helps her stand, wraps her in a large towel and she steps out wobbling, her eyes still glossed.

The boy is waiting for them when they emerge from the washroom, he's sitting in John's lap and when he sees Regina he pelts at her, attaches himself to her leg, unmindful that she's wet and naked under the towel, she doesn't seem to mind much either, she drops to her knees and embraces the boy, fighting back sobs.

"Regina, I can make you better," the boy is a snotty mess, he pulls back enough to look imploringly at Regina, "take if away, it won't let me!" Roland sounds as if in a panic, his little hands come up to cup her cheeks, his whole face twisting in exertion. An amber second skin glows around the little boy's hands, stopping the blue lilac from growing past anything but little sparks in his hands, he grabs at her hair, big fat tears trailing down his cheeks, "Take it off!" he screams in her face.

The amber glow, the same as Snow's.

Regina crushes the boy to her, shushes his sobbing. Robin bends down and helps her stand, takes some of the boys weight off of her and they shamble towards the bed, he helps her lay down, Roland still attached to her, hysterical as he demands over and over that she make it go away.

"Roland, shh," she sooths, and Robin stands beside the bed looking down at them, "it's for the best, dear," she tells the boy and the boy has his hands balled up into tiny fists, his hiccupping breath ragged in and out of his lungs, when he starts to hit her, little fists smacking against her chest, her arms, anywhere he can reach, that's when Robin pulls the boy away.

The boy screams like he is dying.

Robin leaves her in the bed, gives John a look that begs him to stay beside her, and exits with Roland fighting in his arms, the boy bites Robin, tears with his sharp little nails, but it isn't till Robin has entered Roland's room that he lets the boy go.

"Papa, make her take it away!" the boy screams.

"What is it?" Robin asks, because Snow had it too, that amber glow, that unnatural buzzing lullaby.

Roland takes a deep breath, tries to calm himself, "She said it would protect all," he hiccups, "all her children."

Robin rocks back on his heels, "It's a spell?" he asks, her children, she had counted Roland as one of her children. And Snow.

The boy nods his head, "It won't let me help her," and he's sobbing and flinging himself into Robin's chest.

"Shhh, shhh," Robin rubs Roland's back, the boy weeps and weeps until he finally falls into a tortured sleep.

Robin returns to Regina, Roland held to his chest, he cannot bring himself to part with his son, and Regina is sleeping, knees drawn up, fingers curled near her mouth. Robin places Roland next to her, the boy turns to snuggle against her, never waking, and she wraps an arm around him in return.

"She's dying," John's voice is gentle, but still Robin flinches.

"No," Robin denies, shaking his head and he can feel John stand next to him, and they are both observing the sleeping woman and child.

"Robin-"

"No," Robin repeats and he gives John a look that has the other man retreating from the room with a weary shake of his head.

Robin climbs into the bed, spoons Regina, her wet hair cold against his face as he squeezes her, "No," he repeats and when the tears come, and they come hard and fast, he clutches at her and he repeats it over and over, no, no.

* * *

When Robin wakes Roland is the only other occupant of the bed.

Panic grips Robin tightly, he runs, flings open the door and Regina is just outside, Walter helping her sit upright, his hands on her back, and Arthur is in her lap, lurid green wounds wracked into his chest.

"Morgan," Arthur slurs, he's got a handful of her long hair in his fist, his upper body on her legs, his eyes open and empty as he looks up at her, "Mor-" his breath stutters, "Morgan."

Regina has a hand hovering over the injuries, gruesome things, deep and long, her eyes are closed, she's speaking under her breath, low and in a language Robin has never heard before. She's shaking, her dress darkened with sweat around her neck and down her back.

Of the twelve Merry Men, four are wounded and lying on the floor, Arthur is by far the worst wounded, but with the curse on those monkey's claws, Robin has no real idea of how these wounds will heal. Wounded and healthy alike are watching Regina with Arthur, worried eyes, haunted eyes, most of the men still in their blood stained clothes.

Robin takes a step closer to her, and stops, her voice has quieted, and without that murmuring sound the hall is deathly silent, breath bated watching her the men collectively flinch back when Regina screams, high pitched and sudden and filled with pain.

Walter gives his place to Robin without any words need spoken, and Robin holds her up, her scream echoing in his head, she falls against him, panting.

There's a smile on her face though, and the green glow is gone from Arthur's injuries and they knit together, Arthur gasps, twitches, calls out once more for his lost sister, and then he's unconscious, sprawled still across Regina's lap.

"Robin," Regina pants, and she's got a hand snagged in his shirt, "Robin," her fingers dig into his shirt, into his skin, scratching at him.

He kisses her forehead, closes his eyes.

She's unconscious after that.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	29. Chapter 29

The torches that line the tunnel wall light, flicker into life with a whoosh, the stairs close with a rumble behind them, Regina has to put Roland on his bare feet, her arms feel as though they will fall off from carrying him. The little boy grabs at her hand and when she jogs he does his best to stay beside her, his bottom lip trembling.

"Regina," he calls right before he trips, she lifts him before he can touch the floor, lifts him by the grip on his hand, saves him from a scraped knee and the boy is once more in her aching arms, held there tightly as he sniffles, his arms wrapped around her neck, holding on with all the strength in his little body.

"It's alright," she thinks she says, soothes him, though her heart is beating madly, wildly in her chest, "hush now, Roland."

They emerge into the library, there are no windows in this room, and it reeks of mold and decay, there is the drip of water somewhere, but Regina does not know where, a coldness seeps through the air, even as a raging fire comes to life in the hearth on the opposite wall. Regina feels a couch cushion, is glad she'd checked before putting Roland on it, it's got a spongy feel to it, makes a squish and a pool of water grows around her fingers before she draws them back.

Regina puts him on his feet once more, he whimpers when his feet meet the cold stone, the wet cold stone, Regina kicks her shoes off, has the boy put them on his own feet before she kisses the top of his head, a mumbled reassurance thrown to him before she bounds away, grabbing at books, tomes larger than her ribcage, searching for the right one, the book bound in white leather.

Eighteen, she'd only been eighteen when last she'd been here, Leopold had held her by the back of the neck the entire way from her quarters, in frustration she had broken everything made of glass in her room with a blast of magic, and he'd been in the hall and heard the noise and looked at her in the middle of the wreckage and had smiled before grabbing her, and then he'd shoved her so hard all the wind had been knocked out of her when she hit the edge of the couch. The white book had been sitting on a pedestal, covered by a glass dome, Leopold had lifted that dome, blew the dust from the book and ordered her to read it, to learn it, his great-grandfather had been the last in their blood line with magic, and he'd been the last to spark the shield. But now we have you, he'd said, had smiled at her, his smile warm and genuine, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes deepened, he'd looked so glad, a sorceress of our own, he'd said.

She'd been instructed to stay in the library until she'd read the book in its entirety, three days she was in this library, no food had come to her, and she would not disobey him and so she had gone hungry, at least there was a washroom, a toilet for her to use, Leopold returned on the fourth day. She'd read the book, she promised, and he'd smiled and taken her on the very couch that was now a moldy moist wreck, bent her over it, the violent smack of skin on skin filled the room and she'd bit her lips, had held in the pained cries, she had not been ready for him but he did not care, and he had, after two years of marriage, told her he found her crying distasteful, to enjoy or be silent, and so she was silent. An heir, a prince, a King, with magic pulsing through his veins, Leopold had a glint in his eye just thinking of it, the power a King like that could wield, he'd said.

He redoubled his efforts to plant an heir in her after that, after learning she had magic.

She shakes all the memories away, fights the urge to burn this library to the ground, the white book is no longer on the pedestal, she can't remember where she'd left it after finally reading the last page, she thinks perhaps she'd flung it? Tossed it aside somewhere?

The floor is free of books, there is a puddle in a corner, nasty discolored water from which the majority of the smell is emerging, Regina runs and checks the couch again, empty, the two armchairs, empty. She must have put it on a shelf, and the thought has her groaning, the shelves are twice her height, the rolling ladder attached to the wall is rusted at its wheels, the rungs bent, weakened by the water in the air.

"I wanna help," Roland whines, shuffling up next to her in his borrowed shoes, they are far too big for his little feet.

"I need to find a book, Roland," Regina says, hands skimming over bindings, there are numerous white books, she pulls each out and when she finds it is not the book she seeks she lets them slip from her hands and onto the floor, returns to her search, "it's a white book, it has a fox on it, the fox is wearing a crown." The boy shuffles away from her, to another shelf, "It's big, Roland," is the last thing she says to him before diving back into the search.

The sound of books hitting the floor is loud, along with the incessant drip drop of water meeting water. It must be in one of the lower shelves, she doesn't remember ever touching the rolling ladder and she flings the books, white books that _aren't_ adorned with that stupid crest, away with more and more force as times goes by.

Roland finds it, cries out her name sharply, she turns to him, finds him holding the huge book with both hands, tottering towards her, the book is wider than him, about as heavy.

"Good, Roland, beautiful boy," Regina murmurs, takes the book from him and, unmindful of the cold and wet, she sits on the floor, tearing through the pages.

It's in Elvish, each page cramped with inane words, the ancient history of this castle and the Lords that have sat in it, a trailing and confusing family tree that ends three generations before Leopold's birth, it's filled with useless spells, one entire chapter is dedicated to the lineage of a favored dog belonging to King Leom, an ancestor of Leopold's that had left no heir, she'd read it all though, afraid Leopold would test her on it, he never had and it was only later that she'd learned he didn't read Elvish at all. Regina finds it, the only useful thing in the entire book, the page holds a detailed drawing of the castle, as it had looked at its first construction, smaller then it is today, she flips through, devouring the words from the page, and it's just as she remembered, no hidden instruction, no forgotten step.

The ripped page mocks her, she fiddles with the torn edge, and it's not till Roland has his tiny hands on her forehead, soothing the crease there, that Regina is aware that she's scowling.

She gives him a smile, it's small, it's strained, before she turns back to the book, her fingers run over the ink, whispering to herself.

'The Spark ignites the latent left behind', it says, 'and power beyond earth and heaven merge in the inbetween, will come to life within the stone', it says, and Regina is scowling once more. The Spark had awakened it, and it should never have fallen, 'a spark, of royal blood will bid it sleep, weep and have it sleep or wake, of royal blood must-,' after which the page is torn, the rest of the sentence lost, she pushes the book off her lap; it's all riddles, endless nonsense.

Regina crawls after the book she's thrown, intends to pick it up once more, when a loud screech comes from the tunnel, the entry way and only exit to this room.

She stands, gathers Roland up in her aching arms and listens, the shattering of stone cracks through the air, has her flinching back, the monkey's scream louder, derisive and taunting and the shattering stone becomes louder.

The room is warded to block exit and entry through magical means, she feels a fool, a rat in a trap, she'd thought no one knew of this library, and clearly was wrong. "Roland," the boy is trembling in her arms, she runs to the farthest corner from the entry way, the darkest corner, farthest from the crackling fire in the fireplace, the boy has a handful of her hair and dress when she plops him on his feet, "Roland, stay right here," she begs the boy.

He's shaking, crying noiselessly; terrified eyes flinging from her, to the entry way, the monkeys are making their way through the tunnel now, their screams echoing in the small space.

Regina leans forward, kisses him on the forehead, eyes slammed shut, _Mother's Shelter_ her mind remembers, she has never tried this spell before, the Mother's Shelter, she'd read of it in one of Mal's books, had scoffed, but Mal spoke of it as the world's strongest magic, neither light nor dark, just pure, a mother's devotion. Regina had tilted her head at that, at the look on Mal's face, the earnest admiration written on the Dark fairies features, because Regina's own memories of her mother did not speak of this devotion, this awe inspiring force, the spell is meant to be a mother's ferocity and protection wrapped up in a physical barrier, to keep her children safe.

They are trapped in a small space, she needs for Roland to be safe, from her magic and the monkeys both. Harm will not come to him.

She does not know if it will work, and after three seconds she presses her lips more fervently against him and he stands there, hands in her hair. Her son, she thinks, and thinks of Henry, but it's Roland she must think of, the boy had wormed his way into her heart, past every wall and barrier (it hadn't been difficult for him, she knows, she'd let him breeze through, a ray of sunshine to her lonely soul) she had in place. She loves the boy, his little hands, his smiling face, his beautiful shining soul, innocence, purity, the child is a wonder, she loves him, deeply, truly, but _her son_ she thinks and thinks of Henry.

The monkeys draw closer; they are scraping their claws against the stone, a painful sound in Regina's ears. Roland did not come from her womb, Henry did not grow in her body, they do not share blood, none of her children have shared her blood, but the love she feels is real.

It's real.

She can love them both, _she does_, she loves them both and loving Roland does not mean she loves Henry less, she logically knows, but it is painful, acknowledging that Roland has taken a piece of her mother's heart for himself. The love is real and Henry and Roland flash through her mind, her beautiful children, they each have dark hair, are built for sunshine and happiness and she loves them so so much, it grows in her chest, a balloon filling to burst and it's real.

It's real.

But still the spell, and it should spill forth from her, a wave of tangible love spilling right from her heart, her soul, does not realize.

She lets out a ragged breath through her mouth, breathes brokenly cupping the back of the boy's head, her lips still pressed against his forehead.

Is this the truth of it? Her love has never been enough in the past, should it surprise her now?

Harm cannot come to this child, her child, this beautiful child and Henry and Roland play in her thoughts. All her children, she thinks, and a voice calls from the back of her mind, a sweet young voice, a round pale face, Snow had called her ' mother', but Regina had never been the girl's mother. She hadn't, a nursemaid certainly, a Kings whore most definitely, but never a mother, she had never _loved_ the girl, she didn't, _she didn't_.

The girl had called her 'mother,' had loved to play with Regina's hair, would spend hours braiding it, putting flowers in it, Regina would read aloud and sit in the sun, in the flower garden, and let Snow play with her hair.

'I have black hair just like you,' the girl had often said, as if it made concrete their connection, solidified Regina's role as mother to her. The girl was twelve, Regina sixteen, a child playing mother to another child, the whole thing was obscene, a mockery of motherhood, yet still her sweet voice rings in Regina's mind, 'mother'.

A sob breaks free, and the monkeys are chittering, it almost sounds like laughter, they are close, they must be meandering, gleaning some sick sadistic thrill from the anticipation of what they must think will be a slaughter.

Her children, another sob breaks free, all her children.

The girl had been sick once, pneumonia so severe it almost claimed her, and Regina had sat by her bed for hours, had tended her, hadn't needed too, there were servants and healers, and Leopold surely had not seen the need, though he had been distraught and nearly consumed with madness over the cruelty of the gods, but Regina had sat by Snow's bed (had sobbed in the night and clutched the girls hand _Snow please_ she had begged in the night).

_All_ her children.

A sharp tug pulls on her heart, a wave of something crashing out of her, and her lips leave Roland's forehead with a gasp, she puts a hand to the wall over his head, her legs weakened. The wave is warmth and safety, amber and solid, love, it is love pure and untainted, a mothers love, it splits into three; one wave flows over Roland, a second skin, before it fades away, unseen but waiting, one flies away up at the ceiling, flings through the stone, and the last wave flashes through the wall. "Regina," the boy is pulling at her hair, pulling so badly he's tugging some of it out by the roots.

She shushes him, pats his cheek, "It'll protect you, dear," she kisses his forehead again, no magic, just her lips against his skin, "protect all my children," she must turn away from Roland when a monkey chatters; two have entered the library, their stinking breath puffing in the cold, yellow decayed teeth displayed in a smile that is all sharp fangs and twisted glee.

"Close your eyes," she tells the boy, straightens to her full height, and without shoes it's not nearly as impressive as she'd want, her toes are numb against the cold wet stone. Regina cannot turn away from the monkeys to see if Roland does or does not heed her wish.

She throws a massive ball of fire, it skims one of monkeys, it screeches and only becomes more enraged, they are large up close, as big as her, one even as tall as Robin, with their wings extended they take up the entire space, they rush her, Roland is screaming at her back and it's a jolt of something hot and fierce straight to her blood.

it's a blur after that,

there's motion and noise and air fights it's way in her lungs, before stinging its way out

_blood, between her fingers, hot and gushing, it feels _right_ there_

fire fills her hands, there's a screech, she's thrown back she thinks, cracks against the wall, head rebounding off the dark stone, the wet stone, she falls into that nasty puddle and incinerates it all with a wave of her hand, fire fills the room, and ROLAND a voice screams at her and she sucks the fire in just as quickly, gasping and one monkey makes the mistake of walking towards the cowering child left unprotected now that she's been thrown across the room

her mind turns blank, blank, empty,

it's darkness,

(there's screaming, snarling, from far away, orange light, white light, screaming)

no sound

(there are chunks of brown fur, spurting red blood, flashes of the black stone walls, and that white book splattered with blood, that silly white fox with his jauntily tilted crown is speckled with blood, staining the leather of the centuries old book)

no sight

blank

* * *

Her eyes blink, they are scratchy, dry and irritated, Regina blinks. She aches everywhere and she's shivering, her teeth clattering together, she is drenched in sweat.

Regina's hands are covered in blood, up her forearm stained red, it's already tacky on her skin, there are corpses on the floor, two dead monkeys, Roland is attached to her leg crying, she's panting and holds her hands up before her face, confused. There's something _in_ her hand, something red and squishy and she throws it away in disgust, a kidney, she flings the kidney across the room and it lands against the wall with a splat, spurts blood, and falls to the floor. Regina tries to wipe the blood off her hands and onto the moldy couch.

"Regina!" the boy wails.

Regina picks the boy up, stumbles, trips over a monkey's wing, _just_ the wing, the monkey she'd torn it from, breaking bone and tearing flesh, is feet away and missing half its face, it's been burned away, Regina turns her gaze, tells the boy once more to close his eyes, but he has seen….whatever it is she had done, she'd flown into a rage, her rages had won battles, destroyed towns, killed whole swaths of armies, she cannot imagine what the boy has seen, she had not harmed the child, she checks him, running her hands over his body, she had not harmed him. But he has seen, but what had he seen in her snarling demented face, she doesn't know because he still clings to her, little arms wrapped around her neck, he is not afraid of her.

She runs down the tunnel, finds the ruin of the stairs, and has to climb through the rubble. One arm wrapped around Roland, the other trying and failing to find purchase on the fractured stone, she falls, crashes down the rubble pile to the ground, tries to protect Roland with her own body.

Regina lies there, panting and shivering, until she hears screeching, monkeys, she rises, cries out when something clicks in her knee, but she walks forward.

_Of royal blood_, the book had said, right before that torn page, _of royal blood_, and Regina had never questioned it, but it's flashing before her now, _royal blood_, she wants to sneer, Snow, her mind supplies, Snow is all that is left of the royal blood this castle was meant to house.

"Fuck off, rabid god damn-!" a gruff voice screams, hollers more like, and Regina turns a corner.

Grumpy has a sword, he holds it as if it is a pickaxe, which is the entirely wrong way to hold a sword, and looks surprised when the monkey side steps his attack. Regina flings out her hand, fire erupting, a white hot ball of flame, it shoots at the monkey, who turns, feeling the heat, right before it strikes him. Grumpy lands a fatal blow at the monsters neck as a hole is burnt through the screaming and flailing beast.

"Thanks, sister," the dwarf spits at her, pulling his sword free, but then he turns is head fully, looks at her, his bearded face creases further than usual and he jogs to her. "Hey," he calls, he holds his sword in one hand, the other coming up to grasp her arm, she hadn't even realized she was stumbling before his steadying hand was on her. "Fucking Christ," he says, steps closer, "What the hell happened to you?"

Roland whimpers on her hip, he's slipping down and she scuttles him back up, "The battle?" Regina asks, and pins the dwarf with her flintiest glare.

He glares right back, but his hand doesn't leave her arm, "You look like Carrie at the fucking prom, lady," he tells her.

She tears her arm free, her back meeting the wall and Roland whimpers again. Grumpy watches her, that glare and frown stuck on his face, "Do you know what you look like, dear?" she sneers, "Because I assure you, Dove for Men will not be offering any spokesman deals, Dwarf," he's speckled with blood and something that looks suspiciously, and smells exactly, like monkey excrement. She's sliding down the wall, heavy and still panting; she's shivering hard, her teeth clattering.

He surprises her when he barks out a laugh, glare still in his squinty eyes.

By that time she's halfway to the floor, eyesight blurring, she needs to get to Snow now, has already wasted too much time. She straightens, as much as she's able.

Royal blood, she needs the royal blood.

Her magic sweeps her away, Roland and her surrounded with purple, the inbetween, and she focuses on Snow, on that amber magic that had spilled from her own heart, and Regina appears right next to the girl. And almost gets stabbed through the face for her trouble.

"Regina?" Snow shouts, pulls her hand back at the last moment, and good, because Regina would not have been able to dodge the blow, can hardly stand, she's shivering still, weak and Roland slips down her form, she tries to break his fall, does a little but he lands hard on his little feet, only one of his borrowed shoes remain.

"Snow," Regina says, the girl is unharmed, but she's frowning, her whole face tilts downward when she frowns, "I need for you to raise the shield."

"I," the girl shakes her head, and David is handling a monkey only steps away, Ruby, in wolf form, has a frantic monkey in her giant jaws on the other side, "Regina, I don't have magic, you know that!" Snow says to her, turns more fully towards her, her frown growing deeper as her eyes flick up and down Regina's form.

Roland is attached to her leg, she can feel his chest constricting in hiccups, soft sobs, she pets the top of his head, "Keep your eyes closed, dear" she orders the boy, he nods against her thigh. "Snow, in case it has escaped you-" Regina says, and the girl shakes her head so hard her hair flies.

"I don't have magic!" Snow interrupts, screams, like Regina is deaf or dumb, or some variation of both.

"Snow. White!" Regina's voice cracks through the air, scolding and sharp and Snow has only heard her name uttered like that three times in her entire life, all three courtesy of Regina, "You are the rightful Queen of this castle," the words are bitter out of her mouth, leave a bad taste on her tongue, "it will obey you and your royal blood." Snow's eyes are glued to Regina, wide and shocked, "I awoke it and now you must order it!"

"I don't have magic," Snow repeats, and its soft now, her eyes are pools of uncertainty and David behind her grunts and cleaves an arm right off a monkey.

"The _castle_ is magic," Regina says and a hand comes up to Snow's chin, a mere fingertip on the underside of Snow's jaw and the girl looks close to tears at the gesture, the familiarity of it aching inside them both, echoes of a time long gone when Snow was a head shorter then Regina.

Ruby howls out a long cry, and a monkey has moved past her, its claws aimed for Roland, and the boy's eyes are closed but he knows it is coming and screams. The claws turn to ash upon touching him, the Mothers Shelter glowing a bright amber around his whole body, but Roland is screaming and screaming, Regina sees red, she sees red and her hand glows purple, blistering purple and it's with a cry shrill enough to break glass that her hand land on the creatures face, it takes only a moment and the face melts, like wax it all strips away, first it's skin and fur, and then after that it's the eyes, there's only it's grinning skull left when Regina flings it away.

She's on her knees looking over the boy, hands running over him, and he's burbling at her, tears streaking down his face, soaking the neckline of his nightclothes, she hugs him against her, picks him up once more.

Snow is looking at the boy with wide eyes, "What was that?" she asks, turns to Regina.

"What?" Regina snaps back, rubs the boys back, roving eyes restless and glaring out at monkeys and humans alike.

"What magic is on him?" Snow says, loud and hot, and she tugs at Regina's elbow, a desperate pull that has Regina turning and looking at her.

Regina can't answer, she will not answer.

"I have it too," Snow says, steps closer, hand closing around Regina's elbow, "Regina, what is it? It turned a monkey's hand into dust when it tried to touch me!"

"I," and the spell had been all her children, or none.

"Regina," Snow has always had such imploring eyes, green, soft green.

"I cast a protection spell on him," Regina answers, stares into the other woman's face.

"On him? Only on him?" the girl knows the answer, of course not only him, Regina wants to spit it in Snow's face, the girl has already had a taste of her own protection. It's like salt in open wounds, more than Regina can bear, she looks away from those green eyes.

"On my children," Regina says, thrown like barbs out onto the floor.

Snow gasps, a broken sound, a happy sound, her hand tightens on Regina's arm and Regina can imagine the smile that grows on her face, "Raise the shield," Regina says instead of melting that smile right off of Snow's face, Roland's weight is pulling her down, her very bones are rattling, she is covered in sweat.

"How?" Snow asks, and Regina tugs herself free of the other woman's grasp.

"How do you think, you idiot? Close your eyes and wish it, imagine safety, imagine protection, order the castle to provide and it will."

Regina cannot turn and watch, can never look at Snow again, the little girl she loves and hates, the woman too, that she loves and hates, both twisted and tormented together, a private agony ripping through Regina's mind.

The castle rumbles, there's a blast of wind, it knocks Regina right over, knocks the wolf Ruby right over, and Regina does turn to look, can't help herself. Snow has her eyes tight shut, her sword dangling from her limp hand, her hair flows about her head, thick and dark and hypnotic.

"Snow!" David reaches for his wife, but Regina knocks him back with a push of magic, she doesn't know what touching Snow will do, and would rather the blame of any mishaps not lay on her shoulders.

A BOOM ricochets off and rattles the walls, has Regina crying out and she feels she'll never hear again and Snow has white magic pouring from her feet, lacelike and blinding and glowing, it races away from her. When Regina had first activated the shield, and it seems so long ago, the lace had faded fast, but it pours from Snow, stronger and stronger, thrumming with life and strength and the monkeys around them have no time to flee, the white lace wraps them up, climbs up their bodies and they scream before they are pulled into the floor, gone in an instant.

The lace does not touch Roland, nor David, nor Ruby, even in her wolf form, nor any other human in the hall, but Regina can feel it climbing up her body, slower than with the monkey's and not as quickly damning, but it stings all the same, burns.

Does the girl mean to do this? Regina thinks she must, because the lace had not harmed her before, she'd been able to pass her hands right through the shield, when she'd pulled the little birds through, pulled them through the shield and they were once again the baubles they had once been, and now it's only when Snow has the reigns that the lace seems to think Regina a threat.

It burns.

And then it's gone, and Regina lies panting on the floor, shivering and sweating and Roland lies with her, sniffling and traumatized, how could he not, with all that he has seen.

Her thoughts turn to the boy's father, her thoughts had not been with him this entire time, and she sits up, it's agony, but now he is in her head, his face, his voice, his gentle calloused hands, and she needs him, needs him like she needs oxygen, he's alive, he must be.

Snow is stumbling, smiling, she's the hero after all, and Regina shoves Roland at her, "I'm finding your Papa," she tells the boy and he nods, doesn't look entirely comfortable in Snow's embrace but he nods and Regina cannot look at Snow, will never look at her again, _her child_ and she trusts the girl with Roland, and it's not even a thought, because of course she does.

Her hands fling up, engulf her in purple.

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**SPOILER SPOILER, hey so yo, it's gonna be alright all yall, okay, really truly, I know I've given a lot of pain, maybe to the point where it seems like I'm just going in circles (though I thought it was all important to the story and unique in some way and that's why it's there ya feel me), but here's coming is a lot of love, really truly, so just hang in there my peeps**

**Double double SPOILER, those afraid she's for reals gonna die, she aint dying shit come on**

**ps, I think her and Grumpy would be, hmm well not 'good' friends, but like grumbly and snipy and pretty okay friends**

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**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	30. Chapter 30

The water shocks her into waking, fever addled brain loose and jumbled and lost, she's lost, her teeth clatter and clatter and Robin, she needs Robin.

His hand is in hers, thumb rubbing over her knuckles, "We have to cool your fever," he says to her, his warm accented voice, and she curls towards that voice, whimpers, and she is freezing, her teeth clattering.

"Robin," she says again, her hands shaking, and he kisses her hair, washes her, and she's half dazed through it all.

His fingers thread through her hair, and she turns towards his touch, his warmth, his strength and it's natural between them.

"Regina, stand up, come on," he's saying, and her eyes blink open.

The tub, she's in the tub, water freezing around her and she's freezing, standing seems impossible. He reaches down, wraps his arms around her wet form, soaking his front and wrapping her in a towel when she's standing, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her over the lip of it, her feet touching gently to the ground. Robin grabs a corner of the towel and dabs at her face, his arm still around her, and she sinks into him, arms around his middle, weakly holding at his sides.

He inhales deeply through his nose, his fingers threaded through her hair and clasped around the back of her neck, and then he's helping her walk from the washroom, arm around her middle and still everything seems all sideways, and she's dizzy, and can't remember where she'd found him, where she went after shoving Roland into Snow's arms.

Roland she thinks, panic in her, and as if summoned the boy is before her, racing from Little John and crashing against her legs.

Down to her knees in seconds, and something is broken in her leg, shifting and clicking, but it's far away and the boy is in her arms. Speaking to her, he's crying, big fat tears and that's not right, he's meant only for happiness, "Regina, I can make you better," he tells her, little hands clasped on her face, "take it off, it won't let me!" and his magic grows in him, a torrent of it, but it won't loose, little sparks dance in his hand and the Mothers Shelter is around him, keeping all that power where it belongs, "Take it off!" he screams at her, spit flying in the air between them.

She hugs him, there's nothing else to do but comfort him, she will not remove the spell, he will have her protection for as long as she's able to give it to him. His voice turns shrill, "Take it off, take it off," he screams and screams, Robin comes and helps her stand, Roland in her arms and in Robin's, little weight shared and even still Regina's arms tremble and she's shaking so hard she can't stop.

The bed is bliss, soft and it smells of Robin, warm, he is warmth to her cold, Roland is on her, heavy and hysterical, "Roland, shhh," she pets his hair, rubs his back, can feel his tense muscles and desperate little lungs working air in and out, "it's for the best, dear," Regina tells him and he cannot keep giving to her, healing her, it takes from him, she sees it, and more and more she will need until he would need give it all to keep her.

She reads his intention, the way his fists curl, his muscles tight right before they snap, Henry had gone through a hitting phase, but she doesn't stop him, he hits her and hits her, tiny little fists that fly and land on her, she'll bruise.

Robin tears him away and the boy screams like he's being tortured, a live wire running through him, and Regina wants him back, wants the boy in her arms but Robin is walking away with him, leaves and the boy is still fighting.

Her eyes close, Regina sinks into the bed and sleep, is it sleep or unconsciousness, is pulling her down. But a clearing of a throat has her opening her eyes, bleary eyes, Little John, it's only when looking at his hulking outline that she remembers he'd been here. He'd carried her, she thinks, and it's blurry, he's carried her before too.

Little John looks away from her, gestures at his own shoulder with a mumbled word, he's blushing. Regina fixes the towel around herself with a heavy and uncooperative hand, covers the skin that had been showing, and stares at the man, Robin's best friend, and he still will not look at her.

"What magic was on the boy?" he asks, licking his lips and his hands are tightly coiled on the arm rests of the chair.

"A spell," Regina answers, her eyes close, face turning into the pillow a little, it smells of Robin, "for protection," she sighs.

John speaks, and Regina fights to open her eyes, he's looking at her out of the corner of his gaze, there's despair on his face and it has her frowning. He looks fuzzy around the edges, and her head aches, she doesn't know what he's said, she guesses though, and the words are cumbersome out of her mouth, "it'll fade after I'm gone," she tells him, tries to reassure him, all her active magic will fade when she dies, returning to the inbetween where it was born.

If anything he looks more upset, turning to look at her fully, he reaches forward and pulls a blanket over her, but she's still shivering, still sweating, her whole body is heavy, and she can see nothing but his face, and even that is a blurry picture.

"Gone," Little John echoes, quiet, his eyes are wet, he has a hand wrapped around her wrist on the bedspread, not even gripping, just resting over her arm, curled there, "gone, leaving devastation in your wake," he says and there's anger mixing with tears as they leak out of his eyes, he turns away, looks to the door Robin had exited through, his little boy screaming in his arms, John's huge hand still on her wrist.

And that's not fair Regina wants to say, but it's true she knows, and she has ruined all that she has ever touched, all but Henry and that only because the boy has no memory of her.

"I doubt my destination will be a pleasant one," she tells him instead, offers it to him, because that will help John, knowing she's getting what she deserves in the end, she leaves devastation and gets agony in return. Reaping what she has sown.

His hand tightens around her wrist, a grip where none had been, and he turns to look at her, confusion on his brow, cheeks wet above his beard, he's got expressive eyes, hidden behind all that facial hair, desolate and stormy.

Oh, she'd misunderstood him, but her eyes droop shut, thoughts drifting away and she hasn't the will to keep herself awake.

It's as if a moment has gone by, but when she opens her eyes there's dawn spreading outside the balcony doors, a chill in the air and Roland lies next to her, has an arm over her waist, and Robin is on the boys other side, he lays on his back and she studies his profile, the jut of his nose, his slightly parted lips and she wants to climb up on her elbow, kiss those lips, have his eyes fluttering open, to see his smile.

But she shies away instead, slips free of Roland's embrace and rolls off the edge of the bed, her knees hitting the stone and she feels faint, clutching at the blanket, her gaze still filled with the father and son, she turns her head away, swallowing.

She crawls to the chair Little John had sat in hours ago and uses it to claw into standing position, and the towel she'd had wrapped around herself is gone, fallen to the floor when she'd left the bed, she closes her eyes, her back bent forward and an arm hugging over her chest, walking to her dresser on wobbly legs, and she falls against it, it scrapes against the stone and her head shoots around to look at Robin and Roland, but neither move and remain sleeping.

Regina pulls on a dress, a loose thing, easy to pull on herself, and she looks up into the mirror, gaze steady, breath even, she cannot see her face through the deathflies, black and churning the flies obscure her image in the mirror completely.

Regina doesn't want to die.

She had made a sleeping curse, an eternal middle from which she believed no escape was likely to appear.

She had left wounds untreated, stared at them in the night and watched them puss and discolor and had done nothing but watch.

She had let herself be thrown off a horse, had looked down at the ground and a vision of blood spatter had assaulted her, but regret had come as soon as the decision was made.

But then she chose life, her throat had been slit, she had been murdered, and Roland pulled and pulled and brought her back.

It was a gift. The child had given her a beautiful gift.

Robin had cared for her more in this short time than any that had come in the long years before him, Daniel she thinks, sweet Daniel who'd kissed with sweet kisses, she was a child and he was a child, were in love, but that was so long ago, and such an innocent thing, she will not compare them, Daniel and Robin, but Robin had held her and soothed her; he was warm, solid. But she'd known, had known since she'd taken the first breath of her second life that nothing brings back the dead and John was right, devastation is all she'll leave behind. Guilt gnaws on her, and she turns from the mirror, leans back against dresser and looks at the man on the bed.

Today, she knows. She will die today. No tears come, she feels empty, drawn out too thin, she does not want to go. She had chosen life, chosen, decided, after almost letting sorrow consume her she had seen hope and let Roland pull and pull, but she'd been murdered and died, and nothing brings back the dead.

Rage consumes her, useless, quiet rage, eating at her heart, and her hands clench into fists but magic can do little against death, and death has already had her and she'd tried to heal herself, had failed because there is no illness, no wound, just death, around her and _in_ her, and Roland had been able to keep it at bay, his powerful magic, a kind she has never seen before, new to this world, but he is four years old, using too much and too freely, making himself ill and all of him would have been too little one day, a month, a year, from now and he could have given her all and still death would claim her.

The Mothers Shelter knew this, and protected him as it was meant to, protected him from himself.

She takes a deep breath, dots of bright color in her vision and she stumbles to the door, leans against it, collects herself before she opens it and leaves the sleeping man and child.

Eyes turn to her as she shuts the door softly behind her, Regina leans her weight on it, her head tilting forward, the deathflies hadn't let her see her face, but with how the men are looking at her, Robin's men, his Merry Men, she knows she isn't a pretty sight. Four men lay on the floor, bloodied and three are awake, but it's Arthur her eyes find first, and she falls to her knees and crawls to him, her legs would not carry her and it's not even far, so she crawls to him.

His wounds are deep, long, there are blood drenched rags all around him. She'd left him, somewhere behind her during the battle and she hadn't noticed, too intent on getting to the book, she swallows, fingertips come up to his cheek, she could have protected him, but had not and now he lies with gory wounds, lurid green glow casting his unnaturally pale face in sickly shadow.

"Your Majesty?" Regina turns her head, and Walter is kneeling next to her, and his hands come slowly to her back, the concern on his face makes her think he's probably been calling her for a while.

Her face twists up, is she crying, she can feel it, and Walter's eyes widen, his hands flatten against her back when she works and works to get Arthur on her lap, he's heavy and awkward and she is weak and dying, but she does it.

She can't rid herself of death, but she'll heal Arthur, who makes her laugh and is young and strong, and she'd left him behind.

"Get Robin!" Walter calls, a note of something like panic in his voice.

Regina lifts her gaze from Arthur, a hand raised, "Don't" she says, and it's weak to her own ears, breathy and quiet, pitiful, but it stops the man that had headed off to wake Robin. Because she will do this, Robin does not get a say, and she cares for him, he is her soul mate, but her decisions are only ever her own, and she will do this.

The man doesn't step closer to the door, nor does he step away, he's got a lean face, stern and drawn, and his eyes stare into her, stare and stare, "Don't," she repeats, and her raised hand lowers down to Arthurs chest, between two slashes, her other hand on the boy's face.

"Farouk," Walter says, his voice trembling, and he's clearly urging the older man to get Robin no matter what Regina says, but the lean old man sniffs, looks away with a shake of his head, frown deep in the hard lined creases of his face.

He steps away from the door and no one else seems keen to take his place.

Regina takes a deep breath, eyes closed; her hand is shaking as she hovers it over Arthur's wounds, her magic gingerly playing along the edges of that green glow. Healing magic had never been her greatest skill, on herself or others, but she will do this, she will do this thing, and Arthur will live a long life, a happy life.

Her back arches over him, her hand shaking, her whole body shaking, she whispers words of focus and strength, the curse on the wounds is all hate and wish to harm, no other goal in mind then to make those inflicted suffer. It's a twisted thing. The wounds will heal on those injured, but they will hurt as if still fresh for the rest of their days.

She draws the venom out, one sickly thread after another, tiring work, grueling work, picking with deft little pinchers of magic, and it doesn't want to go, fights. She has never backed down from a fight, and blow for blow she peels it all away, it's killing her, but she's already dead and she does not stop.

"Morgan," Arthur says, he's moving on her lap, his clumsy hand threads into her long hair, grabs at it like a babe grabbing at its mother, "Mor-" she draws more venom out and the pain has him stuttering, his body twitching, "Morgan."

The last of Zelena's magic has its claws in Arthur, deep and gnarled, Regina feels exhaustion, darkness is sweeping in at her from far away, the room spinning though her eyes are closed.

She can't heal the mortal wounds with the last of the interfering green magic slithering and fighting her, and she sees no way around it, the magic wants to hurt someone, and so it shall.

Regina lets it into her, opens herself up to it, and the sadistic green curse senses an easy mark and swims up out of Arthur, through Regina's palm, straight into the center of her and she screams, overcome with it, before she stomps it out, bottles the foreign presence up, and locks it away in the deepest recess of her mind.

The last of her magic sweeps over Arthur, runs through him and he jolts, a smile grows on Regina's face, pride deep within her, he will live, hands are on her, Robin's hands. She falls against him, into his arms, her breath gone, her strength gone, given to Arthur and the boy calls out for Morgan once more, pain gone from his voice and the smile grows wider on Regina's face. She had healed him.

"Robin," she can't see, but he's there against her, his smell around her, her hand is on his chest, burrows into his shirt to feel his skin, warm and soft over that lean muscle, "Robin," she says again, I healed him, she wants to say, I love you, she wants to say.

But her breath is gone, she can't see, and death comes.

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_child_

death hides its face behind a black haze, darkness shifts into a shroud, a form obscured but for huge black wings behind it, a thousand wings, around it, everything is those black wings and one wing is burned and raw, featherless, bones blackened and cracked

_child_

death speaks with the voice of a woman, deep, a rumble, an echo of bones rattling, of death gurgles, of wind rolling past a lonely grave, it is nature and endless, the feathers are soft on those thousand wings, soft like the mothers touch that Regina never knew

_come to me child_

Robin, she thinks, not without Robin…she can't, and she looks and everything is the feathers and Robin, his skin had been warm against her hand, course hair on his chest gripped in her fingers

"No," she breathes, but she has no breath, no lungs, no air, no

_you know me_

Regina has known death all her life, and now with those black wings around her it all flashes before her, the time Cora had shaken Regina, her new babe, so hard Regina bled in the brain…but lived

injuries all through her childhood, delivered by hand and by magic, because she had been disobedient, because she was not the daughter Cora wanted, but Regina lived

the blue baby, and she had bled and bled after pushing his lifeless body out of her toxic womb, the baby did not live, but she had

death was with her each time, death had swaddled her softly as a babe, placing her back in her crib

soothing her hair as she lay broken in her bed as a girl whimpering and promising to do better

and death had held the blue baby, dear beautiful Joshua who had never lived outside Regina's body, she held the baby in her wings and he had blinked his eyes open and cried out a plaintive cry and Regina on her bed of blood had smiled at death, ran her finger along Joshua's cheek, death had carried him off in her thousand wings

_you know me_

death had come for her, her throat slit, emptied of blood, had finally lifted her up and Roland had grabbed a hold of Regina's ankles and pulled and pulled and it had been the worst agony Regina had ever know, leaving death to be with the child

but she'd chosen life

death chased Regina, watched her in her bed after she'd chosen life and Roland had blackened deaths wing to a crisp, burnt all the feathers away and snarled and said that death could not have her

"No," Regina repeats

_already done_

"no," Regina fights against the feathers

_Child_

please, please, and she's fighting and fighting, and death thinks of Cora, Regina can see death and death is thinking of when Regina was four and Cora had held her too long under the bathwater in the tub and water had filled Regina's lungs and Regina had fought and fought, frantic arms and it is the same now

death loosens her thousand wings

_Calm_

death orders and Regina feels calm sooth into her bones, she has no bones

please, please, Robin, Roland, please

_they wait for you_

and death shows Regina her father, her wonderful awful father, and her mother who had died with her heart inside her chest and love in her gaze but who had shaken Regina so hard her brain bled, and Daniel, sweet Daniel, forever a handsome young man, a child a boy, and he had told her 'love again' and the blue baby, her sweet baby, born from her body, a baby still, forever

_for you_

Robin, Roland

Regina cries, great sobs leaving her, but she has no body and fists clench in those feathers, soft and insubstantial

Henry

_ They pass child your family cannot wait for you_

her family and she thinks of the Mothers Shelter, her three children protected in that amber second skin, Regina thinks of Robin, and her father and mother are gone, in the past, and sweet Daniel was gone, his sweet kisses long years gone, his body turned to dust under her hand

but she loved them, she loved each one so deeply

Joshua had never lived, she had never held him while he breathed, but he is the worst agony, her beautiful babe and she can remember still his little face

it's tearing her apart

Roland, she wants Roland, beautiful Roland in her arms, and Robin, strong Robin

_truly_

death asks

_child truly_

please, Robin, please, please, death favors her, those thousand wings had cradled her as a living babe, a lullaby of funeral dirges and death had watched her grow with a thousand eyes and death had walked the wastes of Regina's wars and death has favored her all her life

Regina begs like she has never begged for anything and this is not magic, this is death and death is nature and nature can do as she likes and she has favored Regina the moment deaths sister, chance, had willed the child life

death holds her for eternity, for a second, till forever holds her in her feathers and death listens to her beg and death can do what she likes, no magic tames her, destiny a weak sister to her

death lets her drop from her feathers, and being torn from death was agony, but being dropped is a hundred times worse, agony the likes that Regina can barely comprehend, agony, agony

agony

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Regina's eyes open.

* * *

**authors note, so all yall know that detailed reviews where you tell me exactly what your thinking are the crack to my coke so bring um at me, please tell me your thoughts, all your thoughts are so interesting**

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**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	31. Chapter 31

She's unconscious.

Robin tucks her more firmly against him, she's just passed out.

Her entire body is lax, loose, her jaw slacked open partly, the smile from seconds ago gone. Robin is shaking and he holds her, she's breathing so gently he can't feel her breath, the rise and fall of her chest is too gentle and that's why he can't feel her breathing.

She's unconscious.

"Robin," John chokes out, and Robin looks up at his best friend, the large man is crying, his whole face distorted.

"I," Robin looks down at her, her fever is cooling, and she must be getting better, her fever is breaking, "she needs rest," Robin says, his hand cupping the back of her head, and his hand trembles and her head is loose on her neck.

John takes a step closer, hesitant step, "Robin," he says and Robin once more looks at his best friend. John has devastation on his face, and the longer he looks at Robin the more devastated he looks, fear in his eyes and Robin shakes his head.

"I'll help her to bed, and she'll rest," Robin tells the larger man, but Robin's body won't obey him, and he doesn't rise, Regina's relaxed weight against him, wrapped up in the tight coils of his arms.

Walter pulls Arthur from Regina's lap, the healed man groans, but does not wake, and Walter looks frightened, he drags Arthur away with his eyes swiveling from Robin to Regina and then up to John.

John kneels in front of Robin and Regina, tension is tight in the hall, the Merry Men look at each other and at Robin and the gruff men, this band of chosen brothers, shake their heads and George has a hand over his mouth, eyes slitted and he turns away and Aniol lays a hand on George's arm and mutterings, the men are muttering, Robin hears Regina's name, and another word that is wrong, it is wrong because she is only unconscious, passed out from the strain of healing Arthur.

"Robin, let me take her," John says and he's moving forward, his large hands ready to take her weight from Robin but she sleeps better when Robin holds her, Robin clutches her and her head, loose on her neck, bobbles from side to side when Robin shuffles to sit out of John's reach, feet scuffing at the stone, and John stops with his hands in the air between them, "she's gone, Robin," John says, with worried eyes, devastated eyes and Robin shakes his head, John must be confused because she is only unconscious.

Farouk paces around the hall, pacing round and round, lean body tightly wound, dark eyes returning over and over towards the doors to the hall, snarl on his mouth, and John stares at Robin and Robin stares right back, silence in the hall deafening.

"She needs rest," Robin says and his breath is heavy, tears down his face, he's shaking, his whole body shaking so hard he will break apart, take this whole castle with him, stone and mortar and it'll all crash down, "she," a sob breaks free, torn from his chest, pain is in his ribs, in his heart.

She is not dead. No, she cannot be, she can't, she isn't oh god oh god

Robin lets out a guttural cry, it fills the hall and his men flinch and it is rage and anguish and he shakes her, and then crushes her against him tighter, she's unresisting and heavy and loose, every joint and muscle loose, her beautiful lips parted, her jaw open and Robin clutches at the back of her head and he forces her forehead forward to meet his, they clunk together and he strains and strains pushing his forehead into hers, wishing her eyes to blink open, her breath to ghost across his lips, he stares and stares at her face, her closed eye lids.

Everything dulls, a fog surrounds him, when Tom had taken her from him, slit her throat before Robin's very eyes, Robin had seen red, the world was red, it was red and he stabbed Tom in the gut and watched through a red haze, but now it's dulled. It's dull and things dim and his limbs are heavy, and it's only when John tries once more to pry Regina from Robin that Robin moves, her body awkward and tilted as he rushes to stand, her legs curl uselessly against the stone floor, her bare feet limp, across her back the fabric of her dress gathers, folding up above the arm he has around her middle, and she slips down against his chest, arms dangling, lifeless.

"Robin," John follows Robin up, arms outstretched, calming hands, and tears are in his eyes, snot running from his nose.

Robin walks backwards and when he hits the wall he lets out another cry, a howl of pain and he scoots her up against him, her unresisting body bouncing before sinking back down, and she has been in his arms before and she has never felt so heavy.

Something inside of him snaps and the stone wall behind his head, the great slab of stone, cracks right down the middle, a thunderous sound and the men flinch and again John has gentle hands on Regina, but he's helping Robin hold her up, not taking her away and Robin falls against the wall, his legs will not hold him and he slides down, Regina awkward in his lap and John, "Robin," John is saying his name over and over, "Robin."

His world is shattering, the pain will make him die, and sweet Roland is sleeping and hadn't said goodbye and neither had Robin, Robin is drowning, he's drowning and his lungs, his heart, his whole being is in agony, agony

it's agony

and then her eyes open.

Robin stops breathing, the world freezes.

Her eyes are open and they are black, no white, no brown with flecks of gold, nothing but black.

"Regina," he whispers and his voice is broken, sounds so unlike him it might as well be a stranger calling her name, but her gaze turns to him, that dark gaze and as he watches the black fades, brown eyes look at him, focus on him.

John sees it too, Robin checks to see if John can see it too, because he thinks perhaps he has gone mad with this grief, after Marian had passed he had seen her, by the campfire, above Roland's sleeping form, always smiling with her mouth of blood, he had seen her when she was not really there, he had gone mad and the struggle to reclaim himself had been long and hard, but John sees it. John sees her open eyes, her gaze on Robin, and her chest moves, it moves and Robin lands a hand under her right breast, curves his fingers over the slope of her ribs and John does the same on the ribs on the other side, and her lungs fill under their hands.

my god, my god

John is yelling over his shoulder and checking her pulse on her wrist, and men are crowding and others are running and Friar Tuck, he can hear Friar Tuck and he is saying over and over that she is blessed, she is blessed, and her gaze never once leaves Robin's and Robin cannot tear his eyes away, he cradles her jaw, she is in his lap still, in that awkward position, alive.

Oh god, alive, and Friar Tuck says over and over, awe in his voice and the fat man leans close and says 'she is blessed' before Aniol pushes Tuck away, Tuck's rosary beads swing from his clasped hands, swing gently and the Friar looks in awe.

Regina raises a hand to Robin's neck, and he gasps, this whirlwind of life and death and endless sorrow has him choking, but it's all worth it when her lips rise into a weak smile, corners of her eyes creasing, and she pulls him down to her, kisses him, just a touching of closed lips, tender and slow, a heavy clumsy kiss that lands more on his chin at first, but he adjusts his head and her lips are dry, he falls into the kiss and pulls back to look at her. Gasping and clutching at her, she's still in his lap, her dress hitched up past her knees, her bare feet still laying jumbled on the cold stone floor as if she doesn't have the strength to right them, Robin does it for her, grabs at her calves and straightens her legs out, and he runs his hand over her smooth skin, knee to ankle, and back again.

A hand on his shoulder, shaking roughly, and Robin turns and it is Farouk, wearing a frown and he looks to Regina, curled up on Robin's lap and then up to Robin and the frown twitches. Farouk raises one scared hand, white scars across his dark skin, he extends his pointer finger, looks down the hall towards the doors, Robin follows his gaze. Three women in white stand there, the dawn light filter through them instead of on them.

They cannot be real.

Robin's face falls, time slows down around him, the women have burned out craters for eyes, red and raw above their straight noses and full pouting lips, all three of their heads tilt at the same time, in the same direction, faces pointed towards Robin with Regina in his arms. Thick and cloying around them is the feeling of otherworldly detachment, they are separate from the rest of the world.

John is still speaking, loud and it's muffled, like sound underwater, and Farouk's hand tightens on Robin's shoulder, one woman in white holds a thread taught between her hands, a thick cord with two knots in it, another holds a chinked pair of shears, monstrously large in her delicate pearly hands.

They are Fate, stories told at bedtimes, a tale of from myth and legend.

In this world of magic, Regina and her power, Emil who he sees what will be, and Farouk, who watches but cannot speak, who sees truth through all things, whose hand is on Robin's shoulder, who is showing him the women in white, in this world of wonder these Fate are looked upon as too fanciful to exist.

Yet here they stand, their pouting mouths turned down in frowns.

Robin turns his head back down to Regina, because her hand has slid off his neck, her eyes are blinking closed, that smirk still on her lips, her breath leaving her in an easy rhythm.

How, the question is ravaging his mind, how, twice dead yet here she breathes, how, but gratefulness has him sobbing.

The other men do not see the women in white because Farouk does not wish to show them truth; the old man lowers his pointing hand, releases his grip on Robin's shoulder and Robin can no longer see Fate standing there at the end of the hall, their sightless craters staring and staring at Regina, malice in their eyeless gaze.

Robin passes out, exhaustion and sorrow, and great soaring joy overloading him, those women in white a terrible shock, that malice on their almost beautiful faces a visceral thing thrown at him, and he faints right away, John's large hands helping him to the floor.

* * *

Waking takes more effort than ever before, but Robin claws his way up, blinking, there's a dip in the bed next to him.

He turns to find Regina on her back asleep, a hand flung across the space between them and resting against his arm.

It's all indistinct, except for the agony, dead; she had died a second time.

Roland is sitting up on her other side, the boy has one hand cupping his chin, the other running smoothly from Regina's hairline down her forehead, up the slope of her nose, across her lips, to the bottom of her chin, and back again, Robin watches the boy repeat the motion three times before he speaks.

"Roland," he asks, and turns on his side, grabbing the hand Regina had on his arm, feeling for her pulse even though she looks very much alive, color returning to her face.

"Farouk says he showed you the ladies," the little boy responds, his little tiny fingers running gently up the slope of her nose once more. The motion is hypnotic, soothing as Robin watches over and over, thinking how Farouk has never 'said' anything, he cannot speak.

"What ladies?" Robin questions, but he knows exactly what ladies. Those women in white, with burned craters for eyes, and wrapped around them a shroud of unreality.

"The mean ones," Roland answers, frown under his fingers, his chin digging further into his palm, "They scare me, sometimes," the boy mutters.

What other secrets has the child been keeping from him, Robin wonders, what private world does the boy live in, so different from Robin's though they have lived side by side, in each other's hearts, for the boys whole life. "What are they?" they look like Fate, how they are described in every story, and every awful tale of tragedy.

The boy shakes his head, his mouth working side to side, biting his lips, "I don't know, Papa," the boy admits, and Robin wants to shake himself, the boy is four, seeing things all his life he has never thought secure enough to share with his father, he's laid too much on the boy. "Farouk says not to talk to them."

"Did Farouk know about your magic?" Robin asks, and it's a silly question, Farouk sees lies from falsehood, magic in him as deeply as Emil or Regina. Loyal Farouk and Robin never, ever was disdainful of magic when Farouk was close enough to hear it, but the man must have known, he sees truth.

Roland's hand pauses, the tip of his finger on the tip of Regina's nose, "Yes," the boy whispers, "don't be mad, Papa, I made him promise not to say."

"He speaks to you?" the man has no vocal cords, torn out, his neck scared with thick white scar tissue.

"Not with words," the boy says and scoots down beside Regina on the bed, his fingers leaving her face, he tucks himself half on her, his cheek tucked over where her heart is beating, and Roland closes his eyes. She fidgets under him, an arm comes round him, and she curls over with him.

"She won't leave again," the little boy says, and he's not sleeping, but he closes his eyes and sighs, a deep world weary sigh that sounds wrong coming from the mouth of the tiny child.

Friar Tuck had said Regina was blessed, when she opened her eyes and lived again, and Robin shudders, thinking of Fate with their malicious eyes and those monstrous shears, and thinks that she is cursed.

"Stay here, my boy," Robin says, rolls out of bed and stumbles.

He leaves the room, looks back at Regina and Roland, and leaves.

Robin finds John in the hall, kneeling besides Arthur.

John turns his head to look at Robin as Robin collapses to his knees beside him, looks to his best friend.

John has a hand on Arthur's chest, rising and falling in time with the breaths the healed man takes, "He hasn't woken," John says.

"His wounds?" Robin asks, leans forward and rests a hand on the smooth, thoroughly uninjured torso before him, hand next to John's.

"A healer came, the dwarf Doc," John says, "he looked at our men," his eyes glance up sideways at Robin, "at Regina and you. It's not a coma, and his wounds are gone as if never there," he tilts his head down further towards Arthur.

"A healer?" and Robin had approached Doc when he'd been searching days ago, forever ago, and the man had looked frightened and had been one of the few to very very politely refuse to come with Robin. "He agreed to see Regina?" too late, Robin wants to say, but she is alive, breathing, alive, but she had died, there in Robin's arms and the dwarf had come too late.

John smiles, a grimace, "Another dwarf practically had a sword to Doc's back, the mean one Grumpy, he frog marched him here."

"What did he find? Is she, is," Robin removes his hand from Arthur.

"She is well, Robin," John turns his gaze to Robin once more, "why are you not with her?" he asks, jutting his chin to towards the door to her chambers.

Robin does not know, "What loses from the battle?" he says instead.

John frowns at him, his eyes heavy and sad, regarding Robin before he shakes his head, "Forty two dead," he finally says, looks back to Arthur, "eleven in danger of passing still, wounded into the hundreds. The shield stays strong, but the monkeys lie in wait just outside the perimeter."

"A siege."

And then it is silence between them, and Merry Men lay their hand on Robin's shoulder before noticing his strange mood and Robin sees the way they tilt their heads and walk away whispering, and he doesn't know why he is not with her. Laying with her on the bed, wrapping her in an embrace, his thoughts are corrupted by those white clad women; he is haunted by the feeling of her dying in his arms.

But she is alive, he says over and over, alive, breathing, she is well, Roland says she is never leaving.

Arthur starts awake, eyes wide, terrified and then he's screaming, screaming and screaming with his hands up clawing at nothing, his feet pushing at the floor and he's scrambling back on the ground, off his bed roll and blankets.

Another voice is screaming.

Robin races up off his knees, pushes Regina's door open with enough force to have the heavy thing bouncing back at him off the wall. She is screaming too, terrified screaming, and clawing the same as Arthur, Roland is at the foot of the bed, his hands up to calm her but she is not seeing, is screaming and screaming. Men look over Robin's shoulder; look through the doorway at her screaming in her bed, to Arthur on the ground in the hall.

"What is this?" Anoil asks.

Robin has no answer, he goes to her side, grabs at her flailing wrists and draws her up standing off the bed, hugging her with her hands trapped between their bodies. Her scream cuts off, a terrified whimper replacing it, her body bucking against him, still in the grip of a nightmare.

"Regina," he says and rubs her back, "Regina," Arthur is quiet in the hall, and she is quiet in his arms.

Robin walks with her, the tips of her toes dragging on the ground as he carries her out into the hall, towards Arthur, and confusion has him lost, but they'd screamed together, Robin and his men watch, at the exact same moment both Arthur and Regina let out a sharp yelp, almost the sound a dog makes in pain.

He whispers into her ear, sooths her, and John is trying to do the same to Arthur.

Until they wake, and they wake at the same moment, wide eyes gaining focus, Regina looking at Robin, and Arthur at John, and both the man and woman start to cry, Regina hides her face in Robin's chest, but Arthur sits there with wide shocked eyes and tears unashamedly falling down his face.

She falls asleep in Robin's arms, passes out, dangling there with tears still wet on her face; he can feel her heart pounding and it reassures him. Alive, she is alive.

"Arthur?" John asks.

Arthur drops his face into his hands, rubbing violently at the wetness on his face, he's shaking, "I dreamt of," he shakes his head, "it was just a nightmare. I," he looks up at Regina, a confused frown marring his face, "she was next to me, in, she," he devolves in incoherency.

* * *

Granny walks inside the room without knocking, Robin startles in his chair, his cup of tea teetering on the arm rest, grip on his dagger, before he relaxes at the sight of the old woman.

She's limping badly, a wound sustained in the battle Robin suspects but does not ask and she does not say, she's shuffling to the foot of the bed and standing there, watching Regina and Roland, the boy is awake, but quiet and still, soaking in Regina's very presence, more fervent in his cuddling since her nightmare.

"Take my seat," Robin says, standing from the chair and lifting it closer to where Granny stands, but she shakes her head.

Granny's mouth twists up and she offers a glance to Robin, she gestures at Regina's sleeping form, Regina's legs curled up, "My daughter used to sleep like that," the old woman says and her thoughts are churning, turmoil in her eyes.

And she stands there watching until Regina begins to stir, Regina squeezes Roland around the middle, tucks her nose down into the top of his head and then her eyes open, brown eyes blinking.

Granny doesn't give her a moment, she rounds the bed and draws Regina into a tight hug, Roland left with a mildly dissatisfied frown as someone else receives the attention he so adores from Regina.

Regina's eyes widen, her arms taught against her sides, desperate eyes at Robin. Robin walks to Roland and picks him out of the bed; the boy wraps his arms around his neck. Slowly, so, so slowly, Regina raises her arms around Granny, embraces her back awkwardly, it goes on for long minutes and eventually Regina sinks into it, her eyes closed and she turns her head against Granny's shoulder and the old woman's voice is a growl, "You die again I'll kill you, girl, hear me," the old woman says.

Regina snorts, a painful sound, and then it is all tears, snot and clutching hands at Granny's back, the old woman sits on the edge of the bed, rocks them both back and forth.

Robin turns, and Roland makes a sound, a squeak, but this isn't something for the child to see. Right before Robin exits he hears a heartbreaking keening wail that is obviously coming from Regina and he turns to look one last time before taking the boy and leaving the two women to their privacy, Regina has her mouth opened, whole face contorted against Granny's shoulder, fingers fisted in the old woman's shawl, crying, her whole body in distress with the power of it.

It should be Robin comforting her, he knows, but he also knows he is not strong enough, his own pain threatening to consume him and Granny turns her head and looks at him, understanding in her gaze, like she knows.

Granny pets Regina's dark hair, her face hard and grim. Robin leaves with Roland pushing at his chest, adamant to be put down, but he exits the room.

* * *

"Robin," her voice calls in the dark.

He's sitting in the chair he'd offered Granny, sits and watches her and Roland.

When she holds a hand out to him he is powerless against her and he crawls into bed behind her, spoons her and she sighs when he lands a kiss at the back of her neck.

"Robin, I love you," she says, quiet and her hands cover his on her middle. She sounds terrified.

He breathes in the vanilla of her hair, pulls her in tighter, "As I love you," he tells her, and she trembles.

Robin watches Roland sleeping, and knows Regina is doing the same, for long minutes they watch the boy on the other side of the large bed, "you were dead, Regina," Robin says.

"yes," she agrees, one of her hands leave his and move to Roland, gently pushes fringe from his forehead.

"What was it like, can you recall?" the conversation is hushed, it feels a secret thing.

"I felt," she swallows, fingers rubbing at his hand, "safe, Robin, cared for."

She pauses, but he has nothing to say.

"There were feathers, and," she shakes her head softly, "it was all black."

"You came back."

Regina turns, cups his face and his hands splay across her back, "For you," she says, a slant of moonlight on her face, she leans in and kisses him, languid and soft.

He pulls back with a sigh, playing with her hair, "How? Regina, tell me."

But she shakes her head, she does not know, fear clenches in Robin's gut, he sees once more those women in white, those monstrous shears and that thick cord, Regina's fragile life held in that knotted rope.

She recalls the soft touch of death though, the tenderness.

With more prodding she admits to remembering flashes from all her life, interactions with death that still remain unclear.

That earns her an inquisitive look from him, and her walls almost grow, he can see it in her face, but he hugs her to him and rubs her back, and that's how he learns of her heartless mother, and all the times death had come to her bedside as a little girl, and she shakes and tells him of beatings and whippings and magic restraining her. His horror grows and grows with every new tale out of her mouth.

"Your mother was a monster," he says at last, but she shakes her head.

"I loved her very much," she says against his chest, muffled and tormented and he closes his eyes, breathes her in, she is alive in his arms, alive.

She is done sharing for the night, he can see it in the tight frown of her lips, and he'll ask what happened to her mother another night, he will ask her everything there is to know about her until he knows all of her.

They fall asleep together, and Robin thinks of the spell of protection over Roland, a spell to protect Regina's children, and the boy loves her and she loves the boy, family, the word shines like sunlight on Robin's thoughts right before he sleeps, family, Regina and Roland, they are his family.

* * *

**Authors note, some people are like 'hey so what death just let her go and that's it', my response to that is a comically over dramatic half shrug with a look in my eye that makes you want to slap me as I say 'guess you'll have to wait and see'**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	32. Chapter 32

**authors note, hey pretty people what's crackin, so thanks for hanging with me, here's your fix**

* * *

_Run, Arthur go, GO_

Regina smells smoke, fire, smoke is in her eyes and in her nose but she can't move, her feet are rooted, there's a hand in hers

_Arthur please!_

Regina looks down at the hand in hers, from the hand up his wrist, along his arm, until her blurry stinging eyes see a dark haired boy, a little boy, but it's Arthur too, the man Arthur, she's seeing double, one clear image over another, her head aches

The dark eyed boy, and the man Arthur, shakes their head, tears on both faces, blood flows freely from a wound on the boy's forehead, and the man Arthur has a scar in its place.

"Arthur," Regina says, thinks she says, and the man Arthur looks at her, but the boy

the boy is sobbing hysterically

A scream erupts from the boy's mouth, from Arthur's mouth.

_ARTHUR RUN!_

But he had not run.

The wail of a girl is in the air around them, has Regina spinning her head to see, but there is nothing but smoke and flames, but then, like a lightning strike straight to the face, the vision of an almost featureless face sears itself in Regina's mind, a girls face, featureless but for a pair of dark brown eyes, dark brown ringed with gold, and dark hair over a tapered chin, blood, it's blood and the sound of knuckles against flesh and bone

The boy screams and Regina screams, torn from her against her will, ripping her throat apart as it leaves.

The unbridled and confusing emotions of a child blister along Regina's entire being, powerful things that leave her gasping, the horror of a child who had seen the murder of his sister but had not understood till years and years later that other things than her life had been taken too. The horror and sorrow, terror, attacks Regina's heart and she flinches back, trying to wrench free her hand from the little boy and he is the source of the pain, and she blinks, but there is only smoke around them, smoke and the voice

_RUN ARTHUR_

Another lightning strike and awful sorrow has Regina choking and the boy choking, Arthur too, the girl with the featureless face striped of clothes on her back in a pool of blood. Regina finally frees her hand, flinging it from the child's grip and she's throwing herself physically away to try to escape the pain, the awful torrent of pain that blisters and scorches along her soul

It's never ending, the girl _Morgan's_ eyes empty, sightless, Regina claws and claws at the image that is only in her mind, fighting against the pain that is not hers, its Arthurs, why why is this

Regina wakes up with a gasp, eyes springing open, breath harsh through her lungs and it takes a full two minutes for her heart to stop pounding.

She's moved away from Robin in the night, Robin who loves her, he'd held her close and kissed her neck and that thought alone has her calming, her heart calming, she turns her head to look at him, let's out a sigh when she sees he is still sleeping. Roland has an arm flung over her, but children sleep deep and she's not at all afraid he'll wake when she moves his arm and climbs off the bed.

Another nightmare, shared with Arthur.

Regina walks on legs that get steadier and steadier until she reaches the door, it's so late now it's almost early, but there is always at least two men awake at any time in the hall, so she takes a moment to breathe deeply, calming herself before swinging the door open and stepping out.

The hall is grey, only one flickering lantern set by the doors where two men are indeed on watch.

They turn to look at her as she closes the door to her chambers softly behind her, there's surprise on their faces, and they share a glance before one tilts his chin in a clear 'you go' gesture.

George, she thinks, it's George who walks towards her, with careful hands upraised and a soft smile on his face. "Your Majesty," he says quietly, stops feet from her and when did this happen, Regina wonders, when did the wariness leave this man's eyes, at what time did the tables turn and how did she miss it.

"I'm," she blinks, her throat is still raw, "looking for Arthur."

"The second door, Your Majesty," George points it out, there's a question burning on his tongue, Regina can see it, and it doesn't surprise her when it spills forth, "forgive me," he steps closer, a tiny step, and concern in his eyes, "Your Majesty, are you well?"

"Yes," she answers, because she'd looked in the mirror, Granny dragging her there and demanding to know what all the malarkey about it was, and the deathflies had been gone, not a one buzzing, she is more than well. George smiles, a relief filled one and he looks over his shoulder briefly at the man who'd stayed by the door and that man smiles a small smile too. Regina thinks about extending her hand, but she doesn't know what she would do with it and so it stays by her side, "My name is Regina," she says, and her voice comes out small, not quiet, but small and she clears her throat and repeats it, "My name is Regina," George tilts his head at her, "I _prefer_ Regina," she says and sees a more earnest smile spread across the man's face.

"As you wish, Regina," he says with a nod, George eyes her not at all subtly, concern still there, but he turns away, walks back to the doors and leaves her where she stands.

Arthur's door opens easily, swings in and she has a hand clasped on the doorknob and the other on the door jam, white knuckled grasp on both and he is standing by the window, hands in his hair, he does not turn to look at her, "What's happening?" he questions, and his back bends forward, body tight with frustration and she remembers the awful pain, the tempest of feeling that had thrashed at her soul, it's a terrible thing trapped inside him, he hides behind his jokes, but this is the truth of it.

Regina manages to make her feet move, just inside the doorway, but she can't seem to let go of the jam or the knob, "I'm sorry," she is so sorry, she'd poured all of her magic to him, not just magic, but strength and life, a tiny fragment of soul, she'd thought she was dying, that it mattered not at all, "I'm sorry, Arthur," because now, and it's magic that she's never learned, magic she isn't natural too, she actually has little idea what has happened beyond the fact that they are clearly connected now. And after she's explained all she knows, and it is so little, Arthur turns to look at her.

The turmoil in his eyes has her finally stepping away from the door, further into his room and when he reaches for her she lets him hug her, thoughts of impropriety laughable, she'd seen Morgan, the faded memory Arthur has of her, her dark eyes and dark hair, those two features are all he has left of her these long years later and it's the eyes especially, brown with gold, that make him think the word sister when he looks at Regina. When Arthur had seen Morgan in her puddle of blood in his nightmare he'd seen Regina in hers too, a double image to him, as the boy and the man had been a double image to her.

Arthur holds her for a while, his hands unmoving from her back, he's shaking and it's a terrible thing inside him, "It wasn't your fault, you were a little boy," she tells him.

His arms tighten, he shakes and he bends his neck and rests his cheek against the top of her head, he says nothing, he eventually pulls away, gives her a soft shove towards the door.

"Arthur," Regina begs, places a palm against his cheek; his jaw is rough with stubble.

"Go, before Robin razes the place looking for you," Arthur says, shaking her hand softly off his face and giving her a smile that hides none of the pain in his heart.

Dawn is fast approaching, Robin stirring in the bed when Regina returns.

She crawls under the blanket with him, against his side and inhaling his scent, hands flat on his chest, one above his beating heart. He surprises her, rolling on top of her and squishing her gently into the bed, "Good morning," he tells her, and how he is so affable so early she has no idea.

A smile breaks over his face, it's not all happiness, but it's powerful, emotion practically spilling out of him and when he leans down and kisses her they are adamant kisses, powerful kisses that leave her breathless and excited and she groans when he pulls away, he smirks and casts his eyes to Roland still in bed with them with an apologetic smile. He pecks her mouth once more, a tight little kiss and lands his forehead on hers, hands running over her body even with the boy sleeping beside them, "I love you," he says straight into her ear, she squirms under him, and the words are just as potent as only hours ago, running hot through her blood and it can't be weakness, not when it feels like this, it can't.

She pulls his head down with her hands fisted in his hair, kisses him, her tongue greedy in his mouth and his hips fall more heavily onto her, his erection pressed against her belly, long and ready and he groans when he pulls away, disgruntled eyes on his son.

"Will he wake if you move him?" Regina asks, doesn't try at all to remove the want from her voice, because the deathflies are gone, she is alive, she wants Robin, Robin who says 'I love you' so adamantly, earnestly, and she'll have him, let him have her.

Robin grins that grin at her and the need to remove it has her hands running down his back to his ass, squeezing through the material of his loose cotton nightclothes, opening her legs for him, material of her nightgown trapped at her hips, leaving calves and knees and great swaths of thigh all bare on either side of him, knees rubbing against his flanks and she tightens her thighs against him, he groans, head falling to her shoulder, one hand down and around the outside of her thigh, opening it further and wrapping it around his waist as he lets his weight fall against her.

"Robin, put him in his own bed," she urges, he rocks against her, grip tight on her thigh, and the gasp that spills from her mouth has the little boy fidgeting.

Robin and Regina both turn their eyes to the boy and when it's obvious the boy is waking Robin rolls off of her, and then off the bed with a frown.

Regina fixes her nightgown down, turns on her side and waits for the boy to open his eyes; she has a smile for Roland as soon as his eyes open.

Half awake but the smile grows on his face in an instant, and tears threaten at the sight of this beautiful child and she is alive to see him, no death looming over her, those flies gone. The boy wiggles his way to her, flops down on her and rubs his cheek against her chest, a nuzzle the type a cat might do, it has her humming, petting his hair.

"My brave knight," she murmurs to him, kissing the top of his head, "so, so brave," she says.

He draws back, enough to look at her and he's got a pride shining in his eyes, "You're brave too, very, very brave," his whole head pops up and down with this declaration.

She tugs him back down, exactly four tears slipping free of her iron will before she subdues them. When she looks Robin is watching her from the vanity, leaning back on it, wet eyes and a smile that warps his whole face, that same strange smile, happiness there, but it's not alone, there's a maelstrom of feeling warped into that smile. She shoots a questioning glance at him and he falls back into the bed, set's Regina and Roland bouncing, the little boy giggling, he wraps them both up in his arms, a hand on Roland's back, the other in Regina's hair.

And love cannot be weakness when it feels like this.

The peaceful moment lasts only a beat longer before Robin snares tickling hands at Roland's belly and the boy squeals, frantically kicking and squirming and Regina lets out a laugh, and saves the boy from his father by rolling off the bed with him in her arms.

The boy is almost too big to hold, his ankles lock around her back, arms cinched tight around her neck, it takes the strength of both her arms to hold him to her, he's had a growth spurt since she'd first held him.

* * *

Regina enters the council chamber with Robin's hand on the small of her back, but even with his steady hand, his fingers flat against her spine, she almost falters and turns around when the eyes in the room turn to her.

But she raises her chin higher, haughty eyes glaring and those staring turn away, some sheepish, some grumbling, but Robin flexes his fingers softly, and when she turns he inclines his head to her, a quick smile meant to ease her and it does, she relaxes back into his touch.

When Grumpy had come stomping in on the Merry Men's breakfast he hadn't beaten words, "council meeting in twenty, sister", he'd said, followed closely by "try not to die on the way", to which Robin had wrapped possessive hand over her hip and the Merry Men had been visibly very unamused.

He'd smirked that uneven smirk though, under his dark and unruly beard and Regina had put a calming hand over Robin's, "I'll try my best," she'd responded, and Grumpy had let out a vicious snort and turned on his heel.

Snow and her idiot husband aren't yet here, others are already sitting and Regina grabs at Robin's wrist and walks with forceful steps to two chairs that already have bodies on either side. She doesn't put it past Snow to have the gall to sit beside her, and she can't have that, could barely make herself come knowing the girl would be here.

She'd made a promise to herself, in honor of Henry, she would help these ignorant fools, ally with them, and even with the torment of seeing Snow, Regina will keep her promise. Zelena, the sister she never knew, she'd protect these ignorant fools from her, protect Snow White, the daughter she never wanted, still did not want.

Snow and David arrive nearly fifteen minutes late, Snow walks hand in hand with the Blue Fairy, the Blue bitch and Regina turns her head completely away, turns towards Robin, eyes snapped shut and lips clamped together. Robin rests his hand on her thigh, hidden by the table, squeezes until she opens her eyes and looks at him. She snags her hand on top of his, gripping his fingers so tightly the knuckles rub against each other and it must hurt but he doesn't flinch, not a word. Intense gaze at her and slowly tracking towards the fairy, and he remembers the hourglass as well as she, and reassurance floods her with his hand still tight on her thigh.

"Regina," Snow's voice calls to her and everyone else quiets, and slowly, with controlled precision, Regina turns her eyes to Snow, Snow and her hopeful eyes and pink little mouth in a soft pretty curl, "I'm so glad you're well."

Impassivity was a mask Regina had perfected for those twenty eight stagnant years in Storybrooke, and it's that mask she wears now, somehow pleasant but still decidedly cold, respectful and mocking wrapped up neatly, but she can't complete the picture with waspish words. She hasn't the strength and it's all she can do to look at the girl, who fidgets her hands and the smile flickers on her pouting mouth.

Robin squeezes her thigh again.

It's David that breaks the tension riddled moment, scraping a chair against the floor as he plucks it out for his wife, the squeal of wood against stone breaks through the air and the girl finally looks away, sits with her head bowed for ten seconds before she shakes out her hair and speaks.

"The witch was here," she says.

Regina raises an eyebrow, actually shocked, "She was in the castle?" she asks, directs her question to David, "During the attack?"

David nods, "We have Marco and five others reporting seeing a," he falters, half shrugs, "well a green lady during the battle."

"Where?" Regina asks, but dread already fills her, and others can hear it, are looking at her.

Snow's whole face is pulled in a frown when she leans forward on her elbows, tilting to interrupt Regina's chosen line of sight, "The ballroom," she answers, "nothing's there, Regina," it's upturned at the end like a question.

Regina grimaces, long enough for Robin to shift in his chair, for people to get uneasy, before Blue's voice floats through the room, "Don't," Regina looks up at Blue, head tilted. "Your Majesty," Blue makes those words into a jeer, "you won't break it."

Blue has her lips pursed looking at her, her awful pointy chin particularly sharp today, Regina grits her teeth, "The," she breathes and Robin's chair makes a jarring sound as he turns it trying to get closer to her, "sep- se," she's stuttering, and an explosion of pressure forms right behind her eyes.

"You'll only hurt yourself," Blue has the audacity to sound concerned and Regina glares at her.

"Sepul, ahh," she grabs Robin's hand and wetness drips from her nose and its Robin that raises a hand and smears the blood onto his fingers.

"Regina," he says, and he sees she's not panicking, he takes a deep breath, Regina can see that he takes great steps to curb his own panic in the face of her apparent calm.

"Sepul-pul" Regina chokes out.

Granny sits two seats away from Regina and she huffs bad temperedly and rises, ignoring Ruby whose face twists up and the wolf raises a hand after her grandmother with a glare thrown to Regina.

"-cher," Regina gasps, a smile on her face and blood still leaking form her nose, that pressure behind her eyes throbbing, "Sepulcher," she says, "The Sepulcher," she throws a nasty blood smeared smile at Blue.

"Are you alright?" David's gaze like a ping pong ball, shooting from Blue to Regina.

"That was foolish," Blue says, still wearing that ploying concern that reeks of falseness.

Regina still has her hand in Robin's, squeezing at his fingers and Granny has a rag and shoves it ungently under Regina's nose, holds it there even when Regina lifts a hand to hold it herself. "Did you just break a secret-snatcher?" Granny belts out, accusatory and there's fear under all that anger.

"The Sepulcher," Regina says, looks away from Granny, "it's under the ballroom," Regina says, and now that she's gotten the word out the rest comes freely, a hole punched through the keeper enchantment, a week after their wedding Leopold had sat her down right on the floor of his throne room, sat her down and shoved a blood quill into her shaking hand, had her sign her name in her own blood onto the floor right before the thrown. A spell that kept Regina's mouth firmly shut about things that Leopold did not want shared. One of those many, many things, being the vault he called The Sepulcher under the grand ballroom.

"What?" Snow says, and she's half risen from her chair. "The what is under the ballroom?"

Regina's satisfaction dims, and dawning realization has her frowning, hand tightening on Robin, and she sees people looking at their joined hands and does nothing to hide it. She turns to look at Snow, and Snow can read the expression, it's the same expression Regina would make whenever the King was especially displeased, and it's not till now that Snow recognizes it as fear.

Regina glances at Blue, the fairy is frowning, uneasy on her chair, "It," Regina narrows her eyes, memories long unearthed coming to light, "was just a story," she says, voice muffled by the rag still under her nose, in front of her mouth, but Blue looks down, lips pursed, "just a story meant to impress me," Regina says to the fairy, wishing desperately for the winged freak to agree.

Snow stands, "What?" she demands, looks more to Blue then to Regina and the fairy lets out a little put upon sigh.

"The Heart of the kingdom rested in that vault, Snow," Blue says.

"The heart of the what now?" David says, hand flung out towards Snow when she makes to step away, resting gently on her wrist, a restraining hand, a gentle one, but restraining all the same and Regina glares at his hand until he retracts it.

"It's a weapon," Regina says, shoving Granny's hand away from her, Ruby growls deep in her chest, her eyes bright yellow. Regina glares right back.

"Trust you to think only of destruction, Your Majesty," Blue's snide little buzzing voice niggling.

"What is it then, sprite, enlighten us," Regina spits as she turns away from Ruby and towards the fairy, "because my own husband stood before it and told me he could kill all in the kingdom if he wished."

Silence descends, and Regina reels back after she's realized she'd called Leopold her husband, he had been, but it rankles even now, long years after she'd murdered him in his bed, and even now thinking of him as husband has goosebumps on her skin.

David clears his throat, "I think a lot of us are confused," he says, and Regina wonders if this is the calming voice he'd used on wounded sheep back when he was a lowly shepherd. "Some solid facts would go a long way here."

Regina swallows, leans her head back, hoping all will assume she's trying to stop the steady trail of blood still coming from her nose, "There's a hidden vault under the ballroom," she starts, "King Leopold called it The Sepulcher," she's reciting it all in a bored tone, monotone, it has been long years since she'd thought of it, "a jewel hangs in the center of the room, floats there unattached to the walls or ceiling-"

"It's the Heart of the kingdom," Blue interrupts and Regina doesn't care at all, already wants to leave and her promise to help these people is quickly becoming less and less important, but she knows she will stay. "A magic of great power," her tone turns snide and Regina doesn't need to look to know the Blue bitch has turned her wide eyed glare on Regina, "it need not be a weapon."

"It can be used as one though?" Robin asks, and Regina turns to see him out of the corner of her eye, she squeezes his hand. "Has the witch taken it then?"

Snow shakes her head, "Only one way to know," that adventurous side of hers striking out as she shrugs, as if she means to check at this very moment. Blue pops her bubble.

"Princess," Blue extends her hand, a motion to cease, "you won't be able to enter."

Snow's eyes widen and then shrink, brows furrowing, and Blue does actually look uncomfortable as she continues, "the vault is hundreds of years old, Snow, built in a time when, well when women were,"

Snow reels back, hand on her chest, and the affront on her face is almost laughable, the 21st century Maine liberal Mary Margret spits fire, "Are you telling me that I can't enter because I am a woman?" Snow seeths.

Blue cringes, but Regina can't take glee in it because she knows exactly where this conversation will lead, "Not quite," Blue throws a glance at Regina, who pretends not to see, keeps her head tilted back, the rag under her nose is soaked completely through. "Woman of royalty, through blood or marriage, cannot enter until they carry a royal son," Blue says, and she makes it sound as stupid as it is.

Snow follows Blue's gaze, straight to Regina and her face does that awful crumple, but David had not seen what the hourglass had to show, Snow saw at least the blue baby boy that Regina had born silent into the world and Blue had been called for to bless Regina's first pregnancy and had done so with a smile.

But David is ignorant and his voice is loud in the chamber, "Regina was able to enter!" he says it like he's found a loop hole, and his boyish face scrunches when he sees the guilt and despair on Snow's face.

Regina lowers her head slowly, throws the bloodied rag to the table, looks at it and her voice is arctic cold, "I was able to enter because I was pregnant," Regina moves her gaze up, takes in David's face, he looks confused, and the thought of how dumb he can possibly be zings through her right before he asks a question that everyone else flinches at.

"Well where is the child?"

"David!" Snow hisses, a hand on her husband's shoulder.

Robin's hand in Regina's hold quivers, and his other hand comes up to the back of her neck, but she can't look at him, "Where do you think the child is, David?" Regina sneers, she ignores the hot tears gathering in her eyes, she snarls at him.

"I'm sorry," David says, like a kicked puppy he looks at her, guilt on his face as he looks up at Snow's horrified expression and back to Regina.

When Regina pushes away from the table, stomps out the doors and into the hall, Snow chases her, Robin too.

Robin doesn't move to touch her, knows her well enough to realize that is decidedly not what she wants at the moment, but Snow lunges forward and snags Regina's hand.

"Don't touch me!" Regina screams, shakes the offending appendage off.

"Regina, please, please," Snow says, and her pleading voice only enrages Regina more.

"Please what?" she turns on her heel, Snow catches herself before smacking into her. "What?" Regina screams, hands raised and exasperated.

"I love you," Snow says, spills out of her like it's supposed to mean something, and Robin had said those words only hours before and from him they were magic and strength and unbelievable comfort, from Snow they taste like ashes.

"Love?" Regina echoes, chuckles low in her throat, a threatening sound but Snow resolves herself and stands straight like steel when Regina stalks like a big cat towards her, "How can you love the woman who murdered your father?"

Snow flinches. Regina stands toe to toe with Snow, has to look up at the girl but the girl still cowers, that pretty face crumpling.

"In his bed, Snow, I murdered him in his ow-"

Robin's hand pulls at her shoulder, she tries to shake him off and he holds tighter, "Regina," he says right before he picks her up around the waist from behind, there's no fight in her at the feeling of his arms around her and she lets him pick her up and plop her on her feet turned away from Snow, "Regina," he says again, murmuring into her hair, his hands flat over each other on her middle.

Regina raises her hands to his, gripping his fingers and when her spine bends forward his follows, her back still against his chest.

"Alright," she says to him, only to him, a soft whisper only for him, her eyes slammed shut and she reigns herself in.

"I know he hurt you," Snow says from behind them, her words remarkably clear through her sobbing breath, Robin keeps Regina where she is in his arms, keeps her turned away, and she allows herself to be kept. "And I'm sorry, Regina, please, I am so, so sorry."

Regina swallows, twitches violently, but she keeps herself against Robin, she can feel his lungs filling and emptying against her back, the fall and rise of it, the rhythm of it keeps her reigned in.

"When you spilled tea on my hand and I called you a stupid girl and your father slapped me so hard I saw stars and wore the mark on my face for a month, where was my sorry then?" Regina asks, bitter and brittle, it comes less angry then she'd wanted, more despair then she'd wanted to show, and Robin trembles behind her, his arms tightening.

"Regina, I was a child-"

Regina erupts from Robin's hold, turns towards Snow with heavy hot tears streaming down her face, "I was a child!" Regina screams, she screams it shrill and loud, screeches, "_I_ was a child, Snow!"

Snow shakes her head, takes a step back, mouth opening and closing like a fish, "Regina, please," her eyes close, her face scrunched and tears course down her round cheeks, "I am sorry!" she cries again, a desperate offering but it's paltry and Regina can't have it, will not take it.

"What do you want from me?" Regina says, rubs her hands over her face and threading up into her hair, pulling at it in, wrenching it, "Is it forgiveness?" Regina screams and takes a step forward and Snow takes one back, "Have it then! Take it if it means you leave me be!"

"I want my mother back!" Snow screams just as loudly, her hands wringing in front of her instead of reaching for Regina.

Regina stumbles back, shaking her head, the spell that had protected Snow in the battle, the Mothers Shelter, doesn't make it possible for Regina to deny the motherly love she'd felt for the child Snow. But love isn't enough, not when its equal parts hate.

"Your mother was dead a long time ago," Regina says, and Snow and Regina both know she isn't speaking of Queen Eva.

When she turns away Snow let's her go without a word, Regina snatches up Robin's hand as she passes him, keeps it in her grasp the entire way back to her chambers.

* * *

**authors note again, so I recognize some of you might care little about Arthur, but I adore him and it'll be important probs later**

**p.s. SPOILER, I promised she would not die and she didn't well now I say Snow and Regina will work it out one day, okay?**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	33. Chapter 33

**Authors note, look yall this castle is a very special castle that has running water okay?**

**oh and be warned of some sexay sexay stuff here**

* * *

Regina pushes him against the door as soon as it's shut, hands around his neck, dragging his lips down to hers as she pushes her whole body against him. There's a beat before he responds, and the response isn't what she wanted.

He grips her hips, pushes her softly away and holds her in place after he's made her step back. She captures his bottom lip between her teeth, bites down; he groans deep in his throat and forces her back another step, her mouth dragged from his.

"What are you doing?" Regina huffs, frustrated tone thrown at him, she shoves his hands off her hips, and stomps a few steps away.

"You are covered in blood and tears," Robin huffs right back, still where she'd pushed him against the door, "the appeal of that is lost on me, I'm afraid."

Regina rolls her eyes, her shoulders slump as she crosses her arms.

He steps away from the door, a hand stretched to her; waiting for her to take and when she does Robin leads her gently to the washroom attached to her chambers. He deposits her on the lip of the huge tub, sweeps hair off her face before turning to the sink and wetting a corner of a towel under the taps. When he deems the towel suitably drenched he stops the flow of water and turns to her, walks back to her and kneels before her.

"I'm perfectly capable of cleaning myse-"

"I do this because I want too," his head tilts up to look at her, "not because I doubt you, Regina," he lifts the wet towel to her face, swiping gently and the towel comes away red, more blood had leaked from her nose then she'd realized, the collar of her dress is fairly drenched, her neck too. Robin looks haunted, staring at the blood on her neck.

Regina studies him, his eyes are intent on the path the towel follows, his lips are in a hard straight line, discontent rolls off him even as his touch remains gentle and he raises his other hand to cup her jaw. "I've never born living child," Regina whispers, and the towel falters and then continues on its trajectory.

He breathes her name, licks his lips, and doesn't look at her eyes.

"Three miscarriages," she says and she doesn't know why she tells him, his lips turn down, is she trying to anger him, drive him away, test the love he says he feels, she doesn't know, "and one stillborn baby boy."

Robin's hand flexes against her jaw, and she finally turns her gaze away from him, away from the grim line of his mouth.

"Regina," he says, the towel lowered, dropped to the floor beside him.

"I won't be able to give you," she falters, swallows thickly, and the thought she was about to voice is silly, ridiculous, but the thought of a future with Robin is easy to fall into.

His hand on her jaw falls to her knee, his other gathers up her hands and he cradles them, resting the bundle on her knees, she can feel his eyes on her but she won't look.

"All I ever need from you, is _you_," he says, his voice think, his grip on her hands tighten.

She shakes her head, opens her mouth again, because he doesn't understand, not really, "After," she shakes her head, "all of that, I-" she finds the words hard to say, "took a potion, I'll never have a child, Robin."

"You are no broodmare to me, Regina," he shakes the hands in his grip, her knees jostling, "you are my love and my life," he asserts, "more precious than I can voice, children, no children, it matters little if I wake to your smiling face with the dawn each morning."

She bites her lips, swallows once more, "There will be no siblings for Roland, you could choose another and she could give you-"

His hands drop hers, rise up to either side of her head and her gaze is forced to meet his, Robin's eyes are dark, upset, and he looks at her in exasperation, "Can you not hear me?" he says, and his expression only hardens further in the face of her confusion, his hands shake and his fingers thread into her hair, "There is no other. I love _you_."

Love, Regina thinks the word as she stares at him, _love_, he's said it to her and she had said it to him, but she has not felt love for a partner since Daniel, and they had both been children, and love was easy for children. The King had been her husband though, and she his wife, partners in name if not in feeling, and all he'd ever wanted was an heir, and she'd never produced one and perhaps if she had he wouldn't have, would never have…hurt her as he did and she would never have had to murder him.

"I love you," he repeats and her gaze focuses on him again, on the strong line of his jaw, his narrowed eyes and heavy brow.

Regina raises her hands to rub along his chest, up to his neck, "As I love you," she breathes and even knowing he loves her the fear remains, even with all his wonderful words the fear still burrows deep in her soul, because all her loves had left her, by choice or not, it matters little when the end result is always loneliness.

She lowers her lips to his, a hungry kiss with a greedy tongue and this is love, and she is alive to enjoy it, and enjoy it she shall. Regina slips off the edge of the tub, kneels with him, hands on his broad shoulders, sweeping up his neck and into his hair, wherever she can reach her hands go, grabbing hands, needy hands and her mouth works against his, he is just as fervent back, grip tight around her waist.

When he starts pushing her back against the tub, and her knees decidedly protest, she tears her mouth from his. His gaze is intent on her lips as she tears away, he trails after her, she turns her face away from him, "The bed, Robin," she says with a breath of laughter.

He grumbles and stands, hands on hers to help pull her up, his breath hot against her neck as he sucks and kisses and walks her backwards out of the washroom. He finds a spot just under ear that rips a ragged breath from her right before her knees hit the bed and she sprawls back onto it, resting on her elbows looking up at him and he's got that awful, awful grin on his face.

She sits up on the edge of the bed, hands running from his knees up his thighs, she untucks his shirt and runs her hands over his navel, over the quivering muscles of his stomach and he groans. She looks up at him, through her lashes as she moves her fingers to undo the laces of his trousers. He licks his lips as her fingers move in deft movements and when it's finally loosed enough she tugs the trousers down off his hips, off his thighs and his erection springs up, level with her mouth.

"Regina," her name is a croak out of him, and finally that awful grin is gone, hands fisted at his sides, and his whole body tense.

Her hands are against his thighs, flat there before she takes a breath and wraps one hand around his shaft, the other wrapping around his leg to urge him to step closer. She pumps him lazily, heat building and building in her as he groans, loud and deep, his head thrown back at the feel of her.

The noise that comes from him when she licks him, tilting his shaft up with a hand at his base, licking him up his whole length before wrapping her lips around his tip, it sounds like he's dying and it thrills her, that she can do this to him, have him an incoherent mess. She hums and leans her head further in, half his shaft in her mouth without difficulty, she bobs her head a few times, he's making constant noise, rich groans and it's not till she feels him raise a tentative and gentle hand into her hair that she forces more of him into her mouth.

His fingers tighten in her hair, a fist at the back of her head that holds back her hair, merely holding, he doesn't try force her movements, nor hold her in place.

Leopold had never been kind to her when he'd wanted her mouth, he had held her in place with hands pulling at her hair and thrust as far down her throat as he could manage, even as she gagged and fought for breath around him. The memory assails her and she tears her mouth off Robin, spluttering and wiping spittle off her chin.

Her eyes are slammed shut, "Regina," her name comes a bit strangled from Robin, and there's a pause and then her name is repeated, his hands on her shoulders, "that was marvelous, Regina," he says and she feels him sit beside her on the bed, rubbing at her back, "marvelous," he kisses her cheek softly, curls a bit of her hair behind her ear and kisses soft little kisses down the side of her neck and back up. "Thank you," he says.

With a deep breath Regina opens her eyes, _Robin_ she reminds herself, Robin who loves her, she turns her face to him, captures his mouth and kisses him.

The ache between her thighs throbs; she's so wet still, that flash of the past pushed back, she can hardly take it as she climbs into his lap. Robin gasps and groans as his own need finds hers bare and wet and ready against him, hands tight on her hips and it's her own turn to smirk as his eyes practically roll back into his head, "No underclothes?" he asks, want thick in his voice and his hold on her hips starts her rocking against him. "How scandalous," he chuckles and her nails dig in at the back of his neck when his shaft rubs at her clit between them, her wetness coating him as he moves against her folds.

His hands bunch up the material of her skirt before he sweeps the dress off of her and he'd called her precious and she can see the truth of it in his eyes when he gazes at her, eyes roaming over her body and it truly does look as if he has never seen anything as beautiful, he says as much before his mouth descends on her left breast, "Gorgeous," he says and sucks at her nipple, nips at it and Regina can hardly breathe with the intensity of it, of his shaft rubbing against her clit, his hands gripping her hard against him, and his mouth on her breast, it has her gasping and squirming above him, desperate for release.

"Robin," she moans, her hand wiggling between them, gripping him at the base as she lifts off him, adjusts his position and then sinks down on him, inch by thick inch, stretching to the point of almost painful and it's delicious, her muscles clenching and throbbing around him and she has to stop, panting, he's only half in.

His hands sweep through her hair, sucking on her neck and murmuring sweet things to her and he waits for her, waits for her to sink the rest of the way down on him, she can see the restraint he forces on himself to wait, it's in the tense muscles of his arms, the bunched line of his shoulders and she kisses him as she starts sinking down again, gasping against his mouth when he's fully inside of her.

He groans again, right into her ear when their lips part and that sound, it drives her wild.

"You feel so good," Robin says, hands on her hips and with his grip he urges her to lift and then sink down again, a steady beat to it and he seems to revel in it, his eyes shut and mouth open, groaning every time she sinks down, but truth be told Regina's knees hurt. She tells him and he smirks before rolling them over.

Still inside her, just the tip of him, easing in, easing out, teasing little motions as he grins and reaches behind his neck to sweep off his shirt, her grasping hands running over his lean muscles, the hard planes of his chest as he hovers above her once more, and she lets out a cry as his teasing motions cease, all in, balls deep, it feels incredible, out, and then back in, he fills her and it's so good, and he does it over and over, out and all the way in, a grip on her thigh and he has her wrap that leg around his waist, his other hand flat on the mattress over her shoulder.

Regina has never orgasmed from just penetration before, but he has her breathless and needy and there's a spot inside of her that he keeps hitting with every other thrust, has her crying out each time, moaning sharply, it has her vaguely self-conscious, the noises she's making. Regina wraps her arms around his neck when he groans and falls to his elbow, thrusting at a different angle and that spot he'd been hitting every other thrust, now he's hitting it square with all the power his hips are shoving at her and she's practically screaming, sharp cries and self-consciousness evaporates and all is left is pleasure, building in her belly, tightening every line of her body.

"I love you," he says to her, teeth on her shoulder and he bites down, not hard enough to break skin, not at all, but it _does_ something to her, and he thrusts once more, thick and powerful, and she cries out as her orgasm hits, rushes through her, every muscle trembling, has her shaking, heel digging into lower back, and the other leg kicks against the bed as she snaps and he keeps moving, keeps hitting that spot she'd never known existed before and she sees stars as her eyes slam shut, mewling and crying out as he keeps hitting it, his own movements faster and faster, shallower before he comes inside her, gasping against her neck and groaning as his thrusts become shallow slow things as he milks himself dry inside her.

He collapses atop her, heavy and sweaty, and she's panting as she wraps her arms around his neck, eyes still shut and inner muscles still fluttering around him.

When he does move, and it takes minutes, he pulls himself out and she aches already, a delicious ache, and she feels cum drip out of her, something that had always left her filled with self-hate and disgust before, but not with Robin, she's still out of breath. Robin kisses her hairline, and rolls to his side next to her, head resting against a propped elbow.

The tears that leak out of her eyes are an awful surprise for them both.

"Regina," he says, lays a hand flat just under her breasts, and she shakes her head, rolls to face him, the mess between her thighs forgotten as she cups his face in her hands and kisses him softly, crying quietly.

He's not appeased with the kiss and he leans back, but she shakes her head again.

"I didn't think I'd ever have this," she whispers to him, tears still flowing, happy, disbelieving tears, and she will take it while it is hers to take, but it will not last, a deep dark place in her mind tells her, she isn't meant for this.

Robin raises a hand to her hair, fingers running through it and he smiles, it looks sad, his mouth opens and before he can speak there's a knock on the door. Robin turns his gaze over her shoulder to it, she pushes away from him, rises off the bed and walks naked with the mess on her thighs running slowly down her leg as she bends to grab her dress off the floor and pull it over her head. Robin is grumbling and snatching at his trousers when she turns to him, and she bites her lips, pulling her long hair over one shoulder as she stands and watches him.

Another knock sounds and Regina opens it to find Little John on the other side, he's got his face pointed over his shoulder, he quickly turns at the sound of the door and he smiles when he has to turn his gaze down to see her, "Ah, lunch, Your Majesty, Roland won't touch his plate without you beside him."

"Thank you," Regina says, tries to return the smile and must be somewhat successful because his own smile only grows under his beard, "tell him a moment, please," and he nods and turns to walk down the hall, close to the doors where the food for lunch is laid out and the Merry Men are already eating.

Before the door is even fully shut Robin has his arms around her waist and he hugs her before letting her go, kissing the side of her head.

He waits for her as she goes to the washroom to clean up, pulling on a shirt as he does so, and they leave the chamber together, and when he grabs a hold of her hand as they walk she looks up at him and he smiles at her. Regina throws him an apologetic look as she works her hand free of his before they near his men, and he continues to smile at her.

Roland sits on a cushion, a plate full of untouched food in front of him, but he looks up at the sound of Regina's barefoot falls and a smile shows all his little baby teeth as he turns his head at an extreme angle to look at her, he tilts his head though, once he's got a good look at her, a thoughtful look grows on his face and his gaze hovers in the air around her before he smiles again, just as brightly, before patting the seat next to him, as if she'd decide to sit elsewhere.

He talks and talks and talks with his mouth full of food all of lunch, and she listens to every word out of his little mouth, patting his hair and relishing in his presence.

Regina is thoroughly ignoring Robin and when she realizes she turns to him, lands a hand on his knee and he smiles at her, his own mouth full of food and the corners of his eyes crinkle, she is reassured and turns back to the boy.

* * *

She goes in search of Adrienne, the woman and her two daughters, Roland had asked after them at lunch. The woman had been so adamant about the training of her daughters, and Regina fears something befell them in the battle, dead, she fears them dead, but she had not told Roland that, couldn't tell him that and even now she clings to the thought that perhaps the woman finally realized that the Evil Queen was not a teacher she wanted her daughters to have.

Regina ignores looks and whispered words that follow her where she goes, she'd asked a woman in the kitchens who'd never glared at her if she knew Adrienne or her daughters, and had been relieved that indeed she did. The woman in the kitchen had pointed her to the East wing, the most rundown of the castle, the least populated, but even still there are people every few feet, the castle was never meant to hold this many, and Regina frowns thinking of shrinking resources and limited space.

She's deep in her thoughts when a hand catches her elbow. A fireball grows in her hand at the touch and she spins and steps away from the man who'd grabbed her. The whispers fade; people look without even trying for subtlety now that one among them is confronting her.

The young man is over six foot easily, with cropped hair in a hideous bowl cut and a neatly trimmed beard, she recognizes him as a clerk at the Storybrooke grocery.

"The Evil Queen out and about," he says, he's got a mean voice, a nasally quality to it that whines like a dentist drill, the hand he'd used to grab her still raised between them.

Regina has the fireball grow, and grow, the size of a football and he must feel the heat coming off of it but he does not step away, nor does he lower his hand.

Bobby, her mind supplies, a going nowhere twenty something living in his mother's basement, the fool who'd crushed her bread and eggs at the bottom of her grocery bags for twenty eight years.

"Not often we see you on your own anymore, those Merry Men have taken a shine to you, Madam Mayor," Bobby says, snickers over his shoulder to a group of young men down the hall, they look with angry eyes and sarcastic smirks on their faces, ugh, youths, Regina thinks and once more tries to walk around Bobby.

He moves with her, blocks her way with his hands out, a motion to herd her, but she does not move back.

The fireball flickers out, her magic giving a weak splutter before exhausting, her face remains unimpressed, bored even as she looks over Bobby and behind his shoulder to his friends, unease grows in her belly though, she hasn't enough magic to fight them all, not yet, death had only spared her briefly ago and that was draining beyond anything, perhaps three she could, but not five, the waspish retort she'd had for him dies on her tongue.

"Wrapped them all around your little cunt," he frowns when she doesn't react at all to the word, the people in the hall besides his friends though, two older women gasp, but a group of middle aged men stare and their eyes are like drills on her back, Bobby smirks a nasty smirk, "have you, _Your Majesty_?" he spits the honorific out like a curse, Bobby takes a step forward, Regina does not back away, she fights the instinctive want to step back, remains with her back ramrod straight and her chin held high.

"Go back to your friends, Bobby, while you still can," Regina says, looking up at the man, wishing she'd worn something on her feet that gave her a little height, having to crane your neck up at a ridiculous angle is far from intimidating, but she does her best.

"My name is _Piers_, you call me that Storybrooke shit again I'll kick your teeth out," he hisses, and takes another step, but Regina _will not_ back away, not from this man, this spoiled child throwing a tantrum. She can take down one man, if it comes to blows, even without magic she can take down one man, and it'll be him she'll take down, him she'll make bleed, perhaps kick his teeth out as he'd wanted to her, though she has no weapon. It's his friends that worry Regina, four men, all a head taller than her, and the group of middle aged men that stare and stare at her are yet another factor that she weighs, she doesn't know if they would merely stand and watch an attack on her, or help in it, but his friends have remained by the window, snickering at Bobby's taunts, for all their malice they aren't looking inclined to join Bobby in heckling the Evil Queen.

A cackle threatens to bubble, she remembers now, how delightful, the smirk that grows on her face is completely out of her control, "You kiss you mother with that mouth, _Bobby_?"

One of the middle aged men guffaw.

Because Bobby's wife, a noble Lady with land and title, forty years his elder, his wife in the Enchanted Forest, was fitted to the role of his mother in Storybrooke, how perfectly perverted, delectably twisted. Regina can't take credit for it; of course, the curse did as it would with those whose suffering weren't mandatory.

His face turns beet red.

His friends straighten themselves down the hall, Bobby's fists clench at his sides, but he surprisingly holds himself back, glares at her seething, his rage almost a physical thing between them.

"How does it work with the band of outlaws?" he asks, his mean voice lowered, and that nasally voice tuned so low might have been funny, if he didn't sound so deadly, his eye travels down her body, she will not squirm, "They take turns on you, one after the other? Or they cram you up, fill every hole you've got? If it's gangbangs you like maybe me and m-"

David seems to erupt from nowhere, his fist flies, straight into Bobby's face and Regina can _see_ a tooth get knocked out of Bobby's mouth before she steps back with a surprised sound. Bobby sprawls back before coming at David swinging, but he hesitates before his fist lands, and David stands in front of Regina, she has to bend around to see, has a hand curled around David's forearm to steady herself as she does it. Bobby shakes his head, cups a hand under his chin to catch the blood and snarls at David, "Defending the _witch_," he cries, shrill, his eyes zero in on Regina's fingers gripping David's shirt sleeve.

"You speak to her like that again it'll be worse than a fist to the face," David warns, breath harsh through his mouth, the anger, the real disgust when he looks at Bobby, has Regina raising an eyebrow. Bobby may have been a grocery clerk in Storybrooke, but Piers, he is technically a Lord of the realm, wife of Lady Mornot, whose family had sat for centuries on the small council; ideas like democracy and fair representation still fresh in people's mind from their time in Maine has greatly diminished the power highborn can throw around, but even still David is unwise to be so flagrant about his dismissal of the lordling.

Bobby launches a bloody mouthful of spit onto the ground, as close to Regina's feet as it will land, and spins on his heel, his back bent as he furiously wipes at his chin.

His friends follow after him.

"You okay?" David asks, spinning around to face her, his hands come up as if to grip her arms, but instead hover between them awkwardly.

Her head tilts, "Fine, thank you," the gratitude comes after a pause, tacked at the end, she's already trying to step away.

David steps with her, the same herding movement that Bobby had done and Regina flings her hands out at him, patience gone, and whatever he sees in her face has him stepping back. She can see realization in his eyes and he takes another step back for good measure, position of his hands changing, palm up, less threatening and even as she thinks she's not that easily calmed, she lets out a breath, and if the breath is shaky, she will not admit it.

"Regina," David says, "look, I need to apologize."

His apology is even more unwanted then all of Snow's, but she nods at him, anything to have him leave her be.

David smiles at her nod, she can see the guilt float off his shoulders and out into the ether as if it had never been, and it burns, but she says nothing. His stance changes and he looks about the corridor, "What are you doing here?

Regina rolls her eyes at the suspicion in his voice, "Can I not walk now?" a sneer grows, "Foiled again, my diabolical cardio regime found out."

The same man that had guffawed at her taunt to Bobby lets out a snicker and Regina turns her head minutely to look at him and the group he stands with before looking back to David.

David tsks his tongue and folds his arms over his chest, hip jutted out and he stands with more weight on one foot then the other, "I was only asking," he says.

She steps around him, is inordinately glad when he does not block her, but he does follow her.

"Does Robin know where you are?"

Regina spins on her heel, David shrinks back from her, "And what business would it be of his to know my whereabouts, Shepherd King?"

David gestures between her and him, notices what his hand is doing and then drops it glaring as if the fault is its own for not illustrating his point, "You're…together?" he shrugs, voice pitching up at the end like he's questioning his own knowledge

"Does that make him my monitor then?" she hisses at him, and relishes it when he takes a further step away, "To whom I must report my whereabouts and intentions at all times?"

"No," David is shaking his head, his hands raised again with his fingers splayed, "no, Regina, I only meant-"

Movement from behind him and her head snaps when she sees its June.

Quiet, shy June, who'd given Roland a beautiful flower, the girl's face is bruised badly, swollen, she's staring at Regina, and walking towards her with her bottom lip trembling.

Regina races around David, ignores him when he calls her name.

She's not sure if the girl will be afraid of her touch, and so she stops herself before putting her hands on the girl, but she falls to her knees before June, and her hands are raised between them, hovering over the girl and the girl lets out a sob and reaches for one of Regina's hand with her left hand, her right has fingers bent the wrong way, swollen and Regina feels rage run through her, choking on it, "baby," she says, "what happened?"

The girl trembles, not crying, just staring blankly, and David thuds his way over, the group of men following after, concern on all their faces and they gasp at the sight of the tiny child beaten, and seemingly without any thought at all in his head David lands a hand on the girls shoulder, June cries out, dives into Regina's arms.

David looks befuddled at that.

"Where's your Momma?" Regina asks, hands on little girls back, "June, where's your mother?"

The girls only answer is a shake of her head, her face burrowed into Regina's neck.

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**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	34. Chapter 34

_ROBIN_

"May I speak plainly?" John says, walking to Robin's side and he does not wait for an answer before continuing, "The men grow restless, the safety of this castle is obviously a false claim, Robin, when will we leave this place?"

Robin turns a baleful eye to the much taller man, "There is a siege being laid is there not?"

John snorts, "We are sneaks of the highest caliber are _we_ not? And to escape a fortress is far easier than to enter after all."

Robin has no rebuttal to that, and he turns to look forward once more, at sweet Roland who is squealing that Arthur is a dragon as the man in question crawls on hands and knees and roars, it's quite a violent game really, as over and over Roland holds aloft an imaginary sword only to swipe it's unreal blade down on Arthur's neck.

"I am conflicted," Robin admits, and John's eye roll is so monstrous that Robin thwacks a hand at the other man's chest.

"Share your thoughts," John urges and leans back against the wall.

"Regina," Robin says after a pause, her name almost whispered in reverence, there's pain wrapped up in every syllable, hope too, an agonizing mix, it's bare to John.

"Surely you know she would accompany us?" John turns his head down to catch Robin's gaze, "We did not mean to leave her, Robin, for your sake and Roland's," John shrugs uncomfortably, looks away, "for her sake, we would not leave her."

"You are so certain she would be eager to muck in the backwoods?" Robin says, but he has thought of it in the night, watching as she has slept peacefully and beautiful next to him, he had thought of running far with her, Roland, and his men with nary a look back, he has held her limp and tortured form too often in these walls for him to every truly think her safe here.

John lets out a chuckle, "I am certain of nothing, nor are you," John shoves off the wall, rounds to stand before Robin and clamp a hand on his shoulder, "speak to the woman, Robin."

Robin nods, and it's with a vaguely discomforted look all around then John lifts his hand off Robin's shoulder and begins to walk away, "Sooner is better, my friend, death lurks within these walls," John shudders and walks to Roland and lifts the boy over his head with easy strength and Roland screeches.

Robin turns away from the sight, a small smile on his lips, but he shakes his head as he walks to the large windows at the end of the hall, hands coming up on either side of the frame and he thunks his forehead dully across the pane, eyes closed.

He doesn't know why he ascribes such hesitancy to Regina, a part of him wholly believes that she would go anywhere with him, all he need is ask, there's a niggling needle that tells him that she'd be unhappy though, that she would follow at the cost of her own wants, own needs, if only to appease him. He does not want that, never wants her to surrender parts of herself for him, he wants all of her, not the parts she thinks he wants. He's haunted by her devastated features as she sat and told him of the potential children she'd lost, and she had told him to find another woman, madness, it was madness of her to think there was any woman in the world for him but her. It was madness of her to think that he would so easily leave her, he can't deny the heartache that had assaulted him, that vision of those fluttering little angles, tiny Regina's with dimples like Roland, the vision of them floating in his mind like brightly colored butterflies had piece by piece fallen from him. His words to her were more truthful then anything, she is enough, always, enough, all of her, and she _would_ go off into the wilderness merely because Robin asked it.

With a sigh Robin opens his eyes, focus on the dirty glass an inch before him until he broadens his gaze and looks out through the pane, what he sees has his brow furrowing, confusion for a second and then a deep rage that only grows the longer he watches.

So small as to be barely recognizable from so high up, but the difference between men and little girls are easily spotted and Robin bares his teeth, growl escaping without his knowledge as a figure down far below in the courtyard throws a little girl to the ground, a child with bright red hair and that is all he can distinguish of her.

A hand is on Robin's back, and it's George. George gasps and turns at once towards the door, but Robin does not move from his spot, eyes intent on the scene before him. His breath catches as he looks further, disbelief clouds him, horror washes over him, there is a stake propped up in the center of the courtyard, kindling piled high and the girl is thrown towards it by another man.

"My god," Robin says, flings himself from the window, "my god," he's running the same way as George, but the distance from this lofty hall to the courtyard is a long way, Robin pales thinking of the time it will take to run there, and his men start running behind him after seeing his distress.

Robin won't make it, he won't make it, my god, his feet pound against stone, his blood pounds through his ears and there's a pulling sensation in his chest, and the need to protect the child swells in him, the horror that he cannot make it has him choking, as he erupts through the doors of the hall he feels it, a nasty pulling as if he is being squeezed through a tunnel, but the tunnel is limitless, a chasm, and yet it squeezes the very air out of Robin's lungs. There's smoke in his eyes.

He falls in a crouch before the red haired girl, gasping with sunlight bright on his face.

Magic, he thinks, magic, and he catches a wisp of deep dark purple smoke clearing by his feet when he stands and pulls his dagger from his belt in one fluid motion, continuing it as he steps forward, slashes a man's fingers right from his hand when he reaches for the girl.

The, now fingerless, man reels back screeching, he's a light haired man approaching old age, but he's got fire in his eyes when he looks at Robin, "_Caster_," the man snarls, but he seems to sink into shadows as another man approaches. The little girl crying behind Robin; she latches onto his leg, curls around it, sobbing, the girl is beaten and his mobility is shortened terribly by her shackling herself on his ankle, but he won't kick her off and he will make do.

Robin hacks at the new man, deflects the long blade that comes at him, it's not difficult and the tactician in Robin notes that this man has never trained with a blade. An unlucky thing for him as Robin takes an opening in his defense to grab his arm and force him upon the dagger; the stabbed man has wide surprised eyes that only grow rounder when Robin twists the blade.

The arrow that thwacks into Robin's shoulder, it's a terrible surprise, there's no pain, just awful pressure, and Robin looks down at the arrow sticking out of him completely stupefied, he lets the stabbed man slip free of blade and stumbles back, fist on the shaft of the arrow, he trips over the girl wrapped around his leg, falls heavy onto his back and the arrow must have pierced straight through him because the shaft jerks up at his landing.

Before he can rally a boot clad foot stomps at his ribs, then down on his gut, the girl is dragged away by her red hair, screaming and crying, clawing nails on the hands of her attacker, a man built like boulder who wears no expression as he drags her to the stake.

"No," Robin says, turns and begins to crawl after them, gets another kick that sends him sprawling, gasping in agony.

Where are the Merry Men? Robin climbs back up, makes it to his knees before he gets a heel to the face and blood gushes from his face, from somewhere on his face, but he doesn't know where and he doesn't care as he tries again to rise, "Stay down!" a frenzied voice screams and another kick has Robin on his back, dazed.

The girls screams cut through the fog, he can't get his body to move, he strains and strains, manages to roll half over, the arrow pressed against the ground and it pulls inside him, agony sears through him but it's nothing to watching uselessly as the little girl is tied to the stake, a rope wrapped around her narrow waist and cinched by the boulder of a man.

Where are the Merry Men? Where is _anyone_? Blood leaks out of Robin's mouth in a stream and he makes a gagging groaning sound as he makes himself rise to his hands and knees by sheer force of will. A torch, there's a torch held in the hand of a woman that smiles in terrifying glee, and the red haired girl is sobbing and sobbing, her bruised face contorted in hopeless horror, a crack rips through the courtyard and a barrel launches through the air, the aim is poor and it misses the torch bearer by a three feet.

"No," Robin says again and shuffles a foot forward before a hand grasps savagely at the hair at the crown of his head, Robin's neck is pulled back, wrenched painfully, hot breath ghosts across Robin's ear, the stench of rotten teeth suffocates him.

"This little witch bitch first, Robin Hood," a low voice whispers to him, "then it'll be _your_ whore we come for."

The torch is thrown to the kindling and it erupts and the girl screams and screams, fire at her toes before it's all sucked away in a huge column; Regina appears in a cloud of smoke that clears away and that spinning and spitting column of fire wraps around her frame, her face is twisted, a snarl that would put a rabid wolf to shame, the beast in her let loose once more.

Robin is thrown down into the dirt, he lands face down and the arrow shaft snaps under his weight, and the agony that it causes has dark spots in his vision, he's tired, tired and his eyes can't stay open. He blinks, turns his head to see Regina, that fire dances around her in the air, waves of it coiling outward like a huge whip and the torchbearer is cut down by the flame, the man with the bow that Robin only now notices is felled with a blow to the face, screaming, they die screaming. Robin sees many running though, those not inclined to fight the mad beast that Regina has turned into, they seep into shadows and through doors, disappear, but there is nothing for him to do when he can't even keep his eyes open, unconsciousness tugs him down into darkness.

"Robin!" his name, it sounds far away, but its Regina's voice, her voice he hears before he knows nothing.

* * *

It's the smell that rouses him, the smell of the deep outdoors, moist, humid, there's no other smell in the world like it and the familiarity has his eyes blinking open.

"ggnnna?" he gurgles, and when he tries to move its pain beyond telling, but he's a fool and he keeps at it, rolls to his side and he's on a cot, next to a fire, he frowns, eyes narrowed, it's all a blur, but there are shapes, shadows moving around him beyond the circle of firelight. "nna?" Robin is trying to call Regina's name, and the failure to do so only adds more fuel to his foolish nature.

He rolls off the cot, had meant to have his legs catch him and hold his weight, but that is decidedly not what happens. His nose is buried deep in the rich black soil of the forest; he doesn't think his arms have the strength to even move him an inch.

Hands on his shoulders draw him up, large hands, the hands of a man and Robin's frown only deepens, it should be Regina, her graceful fingers that hide strength and hold magic. That swirling column of magic and her snarling face drift through his haze, she'd cut down the attackers and it should be her here now, helping him.

"Robin?" the hands draw him up sitting, his back against the cot he'd fallen from, "Robin, can you hear me?"

Arthur, it's Arthur, Robin looks and looks at him before his gaze moves elsewhere, Friar Tuck and Farouk, Aniol, they all gaze at him and how did he get here, he was…the courtyard, Robin looks down at his chest, sees strips of linen over the spot that had just held the arrow.

"rre gnnna?" Robin asks, his head tilting to the side without his permission. Where's Regina? He is screaming in his mind, where is she. Roland, Regina, and that girl, the red haired girl, where

Arthur puts a steadying hand against Robin's neck, helps him straighten it, "Robin," he says, and his tone breaks through the dizziness and drowsiness that assails Robin, Robin raises his heavy hands and scrabbles at the tunic Arthur wears.

The younger man's face falls, "She's alright," he assures, it's plainly not the truth, and when Robin shakes Arthur, weakly, barely at all the other man moves, Arthur closes his eyes, face tilted down, "She is, she," Arthur falters and Friar Tuck lays a hand on his shoulder, the other on Robin's.

"Where?" Robin says, but darkness is on him again, a heavy thing that drags him down stretch by stretch though he is fighting with all he has.

"Robin, she's here," Tuck sooths, "she's here, don't worry."

Robin blinks up at the Friar, "whaa castle?" Robin dredges up, his hands dropping from Arthur, dead weight on his lap and he can't lift them, his head is lolling back against the cot. Why aren't they at the castle, how did they leave it, when, and why when Robin was wounded, a burden for them to carry when he could have walked when he was well?

Friar Tuck's chin wobbles, both of them, he's got torment in his eyes, "The castle fell, Robin."

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**Authors note, someone said I should make it clearer whose pov is happening, I think i'll start doing that now, but as for going back and adding it idk man that's a lot of work, just trust me it is, so idk man**

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**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	35. Chapter 35

**so I need to tell you up front so you're not worried, she is not gonna be raped, like I don't feel comfortable writing that in present sense, it's different when it's in the past in the story...somehow? and I don't think I'm at all graphic when it's brought up, I don't know, but just so you know.**

* * *

Regina stands, lifts the girl in her arms, June wraps her legs around Regina's waist without hesitation, the girl is really too big to hold like this, a healthy tall six year old; she is too heavy to hold for long, but the girl smushes her face further into the crook of Regina's neck, and the sobbing starts, tears and snot and spit falling from the distressed girl onto Regina's skin and dress. Regina rubs a hand in circles on the girls back, the other arm under the girl's rear to keep her better in place, but even with her arm and the shelf of her hip Regina has to lean back absurdly to keep the weight of the girl up.

A hand lands softly on Regina's upper back, and Regina flinches and she steps away before looking whose hand it is. It's only after she's three steps away that she turns, sees it was one of the middle aged men (Sam, memories of Storybrooke seem so awfully far away in this awful castle, but she knows him, Sam worked for the Department of Motor vehicles, had renewed Regina's license years upon unending years and he had snapped the picture and said every time at her smile 'there's that ray of sunshine!') her reaction to his touch has him frowning, his hand slow to return by his side.

"Where's your mother?" Regina asks again, bounces the girl and pats the girls lovely halo of hair, "June, where is she?"

"Regina-"

Regina turns bodily away from David, shaking her head at him and the still befuddled confused expression he wears looking at the little girl like what has happened to her cannot be real.

Regina licks her lips desperately when the girl still does not answer and her eyes spin until she sees the man who'd guffawed at her taunt, he's looking at her, a neutral expression on his weather beaten face and Regina steps towards him, moves both her arms under the girls rear to hold her up, "Do you know her?" Regina asks, head jerking down to indicate the girl, "Her family? Where do they live?"

The man nods and he gestures to the bend June had walked around to approach them, "Aye, the third door, yer Majesty."

She walks, cradling the back of the girls head and trying to sooth her with soft words, Regina walks with hurried steps and the girl whimpers, Regina walks alone for eight steps before the sound of jogging feet has her spinning her head around in search of the threat, but it's David and the men who follow, they overtake her with long strides, David leads, his face finally reflecting the horror he has seen rained upon poor June, his usually amicable face is hard and drawn, his hand rests against the pommel of the sword he wears at his waist. The men are not subtle at looking at Regina and the child, there's a queer pinched expression on their faces, each of the three men wear it and Regina ignores them, side steps to put distance between herself and them, to walk further from them even now in case they seek ill will.

Sam watches her with a frown, concern in the lines around his eyes, and it's not all for June. Regina ignores him.

When they turn the bend and approach the third door it is half open, blood on the knob.

David pushes it open the rest of the way with splayed fingers against the hard wood, he stands blocking the way for long seconds before Regina raises a hand and shoves at his broad back, the brute finally enters.

"Adrienne," Regina cries, rushes over to the woman lying face down in a puddle of her own blood, Regina lands with a splat next to the women, her dress drenched in blood from knee to hem, and Regina must disentangle June before she can turn the fallen woman over in her puddle of blood.

June's brutal beating is nothing to her mother's, Adrienne's face hardly looks like a face at all, a mess of discoloration and swelling and nasty gauges, the thought that the woman cannot possibly be alive runs through Regina even as she fumbles to feel a pulse, June pulling on the sleeve of her dress and crying, awful cries that swallow every other sound in the room.

The pulse is there, fluttering and weak but Regina feels it, she casts desperate eyes to David, who has walked through the chambers and the adjoining room, "There's another girl! With red hair, is she here?" Regina asks.

David shakes his head, looks as if he'll be sick at the sight of Adrienne, but Regina has no time for his queasy stomach and one arm wraps around June, pressing the hysterical child to her side as the other hand grasps onto Adrienne at her neck. The woman has no time, she would not survive the journey through the inbetween to find Roland, but healing magic, Regina doesn't have the power to do it, not to save a life so close to death, a life seconds away from death, but with June, with June they should be able, they must. She glances uneasily up at David and Sam and the two other men she doesn't know, David wouldn't let harm come to the child, she reasons, he wouldn't, he's a good man, and it's with that thought that Regina closes her eyes and lets out a breath, her concentration on Adrienne, open to attack if one came but she shuts that thought away, David had punched Bobby in the mouth, had protected Regina, though she had not asked, and he'd do the same now, she thinks. Regina eases magic into the room, can see it, not with her eyes, but she can see it all the same, she can see (feel) it swirl around June, poking and testing, sniffing, like a dog nudging a puppy.

June's magic shies back, "June, I need your help," Regina whispers into the girls lovely hair, her free hand coming up to cradle the girls head, "your Momma is hurt, dear, I need your help."

The little girl nods, tucks her head against Regina's chest, "brave girl, such a brave girl," Regina soothes, easy and gentle rhythm to her voice, June's magic reaches out and brushes against Regina's. The girl's magic is beautiful, graceful like a dancer, bleached yellow like Adrienne's hair, Regina clasps it in hers, gentle like she's cradling a baby bird, "think of your Momma, how much you love her, June," the girls magic thrums in response.

All magic is different, Roland's is warmth and love, what Regina's was before rage and despair she doesn't know, but June's, June's is beauty, it is shafts of sunlight through stained glass, it is the curve of a smile, and no wonder the flowers she grows in her palms are so breathtaking, they grow straight from beauty.

Regina gasps at the feeling of it, her hands shake and she protects the girl's precious magic against her own dark purple miasma even as she pushes the swirling mass into Adrienne, her only instruction is _heal_, specification would have been better, but the whole of Adrienne's body looks broken, so it's _HEAL_ and it must heal it all.

Adrienne is slipping, and Regina gushes magic at her, heal, heal, stupid woman, _HEAL_

Searing pain lances through Regina's right shoulder, under the collarbone, she can feel it grind under the collarbone, an arrow shaft through her.

Regina's eyes spring open, she tears her hand free of Adrienne, rips her magic from the task and without her guiding hand June's magic goes swimming back to its shell. Her hand springs to her shoulder, groping and her eyes don't see the arrow, there is no arrow, no wound, confusion marks her face.

A blow to the ribs has her whooping out all her breath, tumbling back, away from the girl who's fallen atop her mother's chest weeping, a blow to the gut has Regina rolling to her side on the blood covered floor, but there's no attack, there isn't anyone, no one is, what, why is this happe-

"Regina!" David approaches, his knees in the blood, hands on her shoulder.

Another blow and Regina cries out, but there is no one but David who has wide eyes and Sam, who's hovering over David's shoulder, he looks like he's about ready to faint when Regina's neck snaps as a phantom blow to her face knocks her head straight back.

David takes her head in his hands, grip over her ears, "What's happening?" he asks, he's calm in the face of this, steady voice and in comparison Sam looks like a chicken with its head cut off.

Regina can only shake her head before another blow has her ears ringing, David grips her tighter, lowers his head to catch her eyes when her gaze spins, "Is it Robin?" he asks.

Robin.

Regina's eyes widen, a hand goes back to her shoulder, where there is no arrow, and she pales thinking of it, Robin, it's Robin, this pain is Robin's. An arrow, an arrow straight through him, that terrifying revelation has Regina pulling and struggling at David until the man gets the hint and hoists her up to her feet, he doesn't look happy doing it, "Protect the girl," Regina says, stumbles away from David, but he snakes a hand at her wrist and holds her.

David says her name, all his questions in those three syllables, Regina tries to shake his grip off but he sticks like glue, she'll need her magic for Robin so she refrains from setting David on fire, she pushes at his chest with her free hand, and it reminds her of Daniel and the stables and she'd lost him a second time over. "Get off, shepherd," she breathes, pushes at him, he's not letting her go, concern on his face, but she doesn't want it, especially now.

"please," Regina says, breathes it out, a plea, shame rubs her raw at having said it, it had slipped out, David's expression softens, his grip loosened, but it takes Sam hauling at David's arm for Regina to finally be set free. Regina's hands fly up, purple smoke surrounding her body and she is gone.

She appears before a stake in the center of a courtyard.

A millisecond is all it takes for the beast to emerge, there's July with fire at her feet, Robin with an arrow through him, blood leaking from his mouth, Regina is swamped out by the rage, overcome with it.

Screaming

It's all screaming

It's all fire (fire at people, and she can hear the crinkle crinkle pop of their skin boiling, boiling from the delicious heat)

ROBIN, a voice is screaming in her mind

she can feel last breaths, screamed out in agony, she has missed this, the power. The fire licks up and down her frame, wraps around her limbs.

ROBIN, Regina blinks, almost awakens.

The beast drags her back down, air comes hot in her lungs, blistering, burning she burns them all, and one tries to run and she flings a rope of fire around his ankle, drags him back, he loses all his fingernails as he claws and claws at the ground, screaming and it's music like no other, a cackle rips through the air, and his ankle is blackened to the bone before he comes before her, she has the fire roll him onto his back and she raises a heel and stomps against his nose and it's hot gushing blood squirting everywhere but not as much as Adrienne's puddle of blood and this man will bleed like she did, he will bleed and drown in his own blood, he will

ROBIN, and Regina stumbles back from the bleeding, burned man she'd been about to kill, she's freed herself from the haze, she's never done that in the middle of a blood lust before, but the man at her feet still lives and her mind clears, "Robin," she says, shaky voice and shaky legs as she stumbles back, trips over her feet, lands on her ass in the dirt, mind reeling, "Robin," world spinning, her gaze spins, looking for more enemies, she finds none.

Robin's face is pressed into the dirt, he's not moving.

"Robin," Regina stands, falls, and stands again, pelts at Robin and lands next to him, sprawling there with bits of rocks biting into her palms.

She hears July screaming, still tied to the stake, but she doesn't look, has eyes only for Robin, the blood on him, she turns him, huffing until he's in her lap, her eyes close, hand splayed over the wound, the arrow shaft sticking up between her middle and ring fingers, she'll heal him, she has to heal him.

A blow lands on the back of her head, a sharp jagged thing that somewhere in her she recognizes as a rock, the pain makes her scream sharply, blood gushes, she can feel it warm running down through her hair, down the back of her neck. She's dragged back kicking by a grip on her hair, she flails her arms behind her, catches the hand that holds her hair and a current shoots from the center of her, electro shock to the man, he snarls and drops his grip, his hand convulsing.

She takes the time to turn, crouched on the ground, panting with a hand raised, her world tilting, the man comes at her, his hands his only weapons, when she tries to throw fire the flame won't come, and she throws herself to the side to avoid the blow he'd swiped at her face.

He follows after her, she twists and lands a strike against his kidney, he roars, swipes out his arm in a backhand that she catches on the temple, she falls and rolls.

He catches her ankle, won't let go of the flailing limb and he drags her back by it, the hem of her dress riding up her legs until she's close enough to kick him in the face with her other foot. His cheekbone breaks under her heel, she can feel it, but all he does is hold her ankle tighter, drags her closer, he lunges at her, gripping at her legs, grappling at her and forcing them apart, putting himself between them as he's trying to restrain her flailing fists with little success. The scream she lets out is rage, it's rage when she feels him excited and hard, pressing against her, grinding himself between her legs while snarling at her, he spits in her face, her dress is pushed to her hips, the flame that grows in her hand is born of panic, pure panic that draws out the last of the magic she can possible spare, and she lands it on his face, the smell of burning skin filling her nose, he screams, she fights her way out from him.

Even with half his face burned off he chases after her, his own rage powering him beyond reason, he smacks at the wound at the back of her head, the open, bleeding wound and it feels like her head will split in two, she lands heavy on the ground, on her front, breathing in dirt.

She can't rise from where she's landed, he flips her over, she sees double before he straddles her, heavy on her middle. He doesn't bother avoiding her clawing hands trying to dig out his eyes, he lets her, she digs furrows into his face, the burned flesh ripping away under her nails as he snares his hands on either side of her head, he looks completely mad, "_Disgusting_," he hisses, lifts her head and slams it back down onto the ground, "_dirty_," he does it again, Regina can't see, it's all pain, "_WITCH_," he slams her skull back down and Regina is going to pass out, she's going to vomit, and he lifts her head again, her hands have fallen limp to her sides, and his face is ripped into ribbons.

A sword blade erupts out the middle his chest, the gleaming blade red with his blood and his eyes move from the blade, to Regina's face, his last expression is deep, unfathomable hate, and then he is dead, slumping forward down the blade and landing all on top of her.

He's pushed off her quickly, everything is blurry, blurry and in doubles, it's the voices she recognizes and relief spreads through her, George's voice, Walter's.

"Fuck," Walter says, "fuck, god," Walter's voice from somewhere above her, there's a hand against her cheek.

A noise comes out of her, a whine, the hand on her cheek presses harder, "Regina," George, its George's hand on her cheek.

"Cut the girl down!" another voice.

"Is he breathing?" another.

And Walter, "oh god, fuck, god."

"rrg," Regina says, swallows, and blinks and blinks trying to clear her pain away.

"Slow down," George says, "hey, hey!" he cries when she lurches up.

Sitting up was a terrible idea, vomit burns its way up her throat, spills out of her mouth, up in her nose, and George helps her stay sitting instead of falling in the puddle of her own sick, but she refuses to lay back, now that she's up the hardest part is over and she refuses to succumb to the weakness of her body.

Her hand grabs at George's jacket, she can't see still, it's blurry and she can't see Robin, she asks for him.

George's arm is wrapped around her shoulders, "We've got you," he's saying, maybe, and something about safe, your safe, and she'd snort if she didn't think her brain would leak out her skull, darkness comes all at once.

* * *

She regains consciousness to the heated sound of raised voices, she's being held against someone's chest, still on the ground of the courtyard, it's not Robin's arms around her and she pushes, trying to free their hold before Aniol's voice comes to her ear, "Safe now, you are safe," his deeply accented voice rumbles to her and he is one of Robin's Merry Men, one of his brothers, and her head still aches, so she stops fighting.

"-killed them!"

"They were going to burn the girl at the-"

"-a monst-"

"Don't fucking touch her, I'll-"

"Doc! Get your ass ove-"

"Robin?" Regina asks, and feels Aniol tighten his hold of her, her words were slurred, and darkness comes back.

* * *

"It's some poison, his wound is minor, but he won't wake," John's voice, the clatter of the hall, Regina is curled onto her side, propped up by pillows to keep her from rolling around.

She can't get her eyes to open.

"Roland," Friar Tuck sounds close to crying, "surely the boy can-"

"After what he did for her," John says, interrupts the Friar, "you saw him, Tuck, I feared for his life and she barely looked better at all."

"What are you saying to me," Tuck whispers.

"I'm saying," John sighs, "give him his last rites, Friar."

There's a dip in the bed next to Regina, she fights and fights to open her eyes, they don't open, her head aches, she hurts everywhere, she moves her hand over the sheets, the rustle of them seems to reverberate in her ears, she encounters warm flesh, a lean muscled arm, she clasps it desperately.

"Robin," she thinks she says, finally opens her eyes, only to shut them at the sunlight that blinds her.

"Your Majesty?" heavy boot falls and a large hand rests itself on Regina's shoulder.

She can't turn her head, can't move, but she blinks her eyes open again, squinting into sunlight, Robin's skin is tinted yellow, he's breathing shallowly, his sweating face is what greets her, a keening moan comes out of her, John's hand tightens on her shoulder.

Regina shuffles closer to Robin, dislodges the pillow by her stomach and lies against Robin, his body is burning up, she reaches a hand up against his cheek, his eyes flicker wildly under his eyelids.

"Robin," she pleads, he has always been strong, and to see him laid so low has fear gripping her throat as efficiently as any malicious hand, she can't breathe, and this is what he gets for loving her, this is what her love brings, a rational part of her knows this isn't her fault, but the part she's listening to at the moment, the part that is her aching skull and burning sorrow, screams 'your fault, your fault' and she has no defense against it.

She doesn't know she's crying, weeping, she's weeping, until John tells her to calm or she'll hurt herself, but the guilt runs through her, Daniel had died because of her, her first love, her father had died by her own hand, her sweet awful father, her mother too had died because of her, (Leopold, she'd murdered Leopold in his own bed), and now Robin.

She is a blight, and she weeps because she should have let him go while she could, and he'd have been safe and happy with his boy.

"Robin," she begs.

He doesn't move.

* * *

**authors note, so obvs we haven't caught up to Robin's pov, but i just wanted to say it so it's clear**

**so my bro said this got 'intense' but he said it in a tone that made it not sound a good way, but idk that's just how I write? because let me tell you guys something, I have like no editing process, which is usually the cause of the repetitive 'ands' and probs other things that people don't like, but it's like word vomit onto the page and I just write fucked up shit, I can't help it**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	36. Chapter 36

"Girl," a voice calls.

Granny's voice but Regina doesn't turn, she ducks her head over the boiling pot, it boils with no flame under it, Regina is holding her hair close to her shoulder to keep it from dangling in the brew, after a moment of inhaling the silver mist being exhaled in copious amounts from the pot, she draws back, reaching for more lavender.

"Girl," Granny growls.

The hand that now holds the needed lavender is caught in a firm grip, plump and wrinkled fingers holding it in place. It's only when Regina tries to tug her hand free, and cannot, that she looks up into Granny's face.

Worry is there, Regina tilts her head at that, "What is it?" Regina asks, her face blank of any expression, and Granny's only creases further in worry.

"What are you making?" Granny asks, leans forward to smell the fumes as Regina had done and promptly flinches back, "Smells like rat poison."

"How would you know the smell of rat poison?" Regina asks, tugs her hand free from Granny and throws the lavender in the pot; the mist turns turquoise, Regina watches intently, "Finally ready to admit to bribing the Health Department all those years?"

Granny takes a deep breath, but that worry that's carved into her brow, it's not going away, "Regina," the old woman says, a reprimand and a caress all in one, "what are you making?"

"I'm attempting to make the Healer's Weight," Regina sighs, she sticks a wooden ladle into the pot, turns it twice counterclockwise and the brew turns cloudy blue, the steam a sleet grey.

"This? Is it for Robin?" Granny nudges at the open book on Regina's lap as Regina nods her head, this potion is said to counteract every poison known to man and Regina hopes that is the truth of it. Granny flashes a smile and looks more closely at the recipe written on the page, and Regina knows for certain the woman can't read the words, she barely can herself, runes and symbols, it's an ancient tome.

Granny purses her lips, "Where'd that book come from?"

"The south wing library," Regina doesn't see the need to lie, not to Granny at least.

Granny's hands flex and pull back to her lap, "And how did you get past the guards?"

The guards, the thought rankles, Snow and Charming and enough others, and who exactly these 'others' are Regina cannot say, 'others' obviously did not include herself or Granny, they had voted and decided, all those with magic were restrained to the third tallest tower. From the top floor of the tower where Regina, Robin, and his Merry Men call home, all the way down seven floors now filled with anyone with even a pinch of magic in their bodies.

Regina had overheard people, the tower now bustling where before it had been still, and Regina misses the quiet desperately, she'd overheard hushed and panicked whispers, whispers of families torn apart, husband's with magic but not their wives, of mother's who refused to be parted from magical children. But if Blue held her wand before you and it glowed, then that was that, and you were dragged to the tower, for _protection_, bitterness flows in the air, a heavy thing that slinks in the shadows, that grows in every unhappy face.

And Roland told her of how guards had come to remove the Merry Men from the tower, and the men had stood with their hands on their weapons before the doors to her and Robin's chambers, where they both lay wounded and unconscious, and John had said that the only way to remove them was to kill them. That was a misunderstanding; Snow had said when she came to see Regina after hearing that Regina had awoken, awoken four long days after she'd passed out in Aniol's arms, four long days after the brutal fight that had her still aching even now.

Snow seemed so surprised that there were so many with magic, and Regina despairs at the girls obvious lack of proper learning, magic is the lifeblood of this realm, as prevalent as internet addiction back in Maine. 'The guards are there to protect you', Snow had said, skittish eyes on the still awful bruises adorning Regina's face, on the broken, jagged, ugly fingernails half missing on Regina's torn fingers, Regina hadn't been aware she'd ripped them off at the time, when the man had dragged her back by her ankle and she'd clawed at the ground trying to find purchase, 'protect all of you', Snow said, and smiled that earnest smile.

"What are guards and locked doors to a witch?" Regina asks, reaches for a tiny little bundle bound within a strip of blood soaked cotton, the hearts of five mice, she throws it wholesale in, not wanting to unwrap the tiny yet gruesome bundle, not wanting to deal with a _look_ from Granny, as if killing mice is the worst thing Regina has ever done.

Granny grabs Regina's hand again, from over the pot and she drags that hand over to her lap, "I'll not have lies from you, girl, you look like death and wouldn't have the juice to charge a cell phone, so cut the shit," Granny growls and when Regina does not look away from the pot Granny snatches the book from Regina's lap. Regina's head snaps up, finally eye to eye with the old woman, "How did you get past the guards?"

"Perhaps I used my feminine wiles, you should try," Regina snipes, huffs when she reaches for the book and Granny leans farther back, book held as far as possible.

"You'll drive Robin into a jealous rage if you use your feminine wiles on guards, girl," Granny cringes as soon as the words are out of her mouth.

Robin is lying unconscious, sweaty and yellow and dying, there will be no rage from him, jealous or otherwise. Regina lunges and snatches the book from Granny's now lowering hand, a page flutters out from the ancient binding.

Perhaps the old woman feels awkward bringing up the man near death, or perhaps it's Regina's reaction that has Granny suddenly quiet, Regina doesn't know, nor does she care, Regina checks the instructions before throwing an opal in the pot, watches as it floats unnaturally before sinking with a violent hiss into the ever lightening brew that bubbles and boils.

"Regina," Granny says, the old woman has a hand on Regina's back, a comforting hand, but whatever she was going to say is left unheard as Regina extends her hands over the pot, a sharp and tiny blade held in her right hand and she slices it across her left wrist without any hesitation, a precise movement, a forceful dig that leaves a cut that has not damaged any major blood ways, but Granny _shrieks_.

"What are you doing?" she screams and reaches for the wounded arm, Regina drops the knife into the pot, it melts in seconds, five dribbles of blood fall from her wound before Granny succeeds in pulling the arm from over the pot, "Goddamn it," Granny says, her voice shaking as she wraps Regina's whole forearm in her apron, cradles it there in her lap.

"It's alright," Regina says offhandedly as she looks at the potion, it's a blinding white now, with swirls of butter yellow, the steam shimmers.

Granny glares, her face contorted when she tilts her head up to look at Regina, "You took a blade and slit your wrist," the old woman hisses, like she can't believe it, though she saw it with her own eyes.

Regina frowns as she finally turns away from the pot, her arm still held immovable by Granny's apron, Regina picks up a glass jar with her free hand, one of five, off the ground from next to her, she dips it in the pot, filling it with that white with swirls of butter yellow and when it's full she wipes the side of the jar on the skirt of her dress, she picks up another, "The potion-"

"I don't care about your fucking potion," Granny seethes, squeezes the apron tighter around Regina's wrist, and Regina gasps from the sharp pain, the second jar is filled, the side wiped clean, and when she puts it on the ground she finally decides to look at what damage she'd done to herself.

There's more blood then she'd realized there would be, a tug of guilt makes itself known as Regina looks at Granny's disgruntled face.

"The potion-" Regina tries again, because the potion demanded blood, and what else could she do-

The old woman snarls.

Regina looks away, picks up another jar, fills it, "I don't know why you're angry with me," Regina finally admits, voice quiet, Granny has been short with her, gruff without softness since Regina had awoken, Regina's arm is throbbing from under Granny's apron.

Granny's shoulders slump, she takes in a deep breath, "I'm not _angry_, girl," she answers, her head points elsewhere, and now neither women are looking at the other, "You make me so afraid, did you know that?"

"Of what?" Regina asks, her brow crinkling, her arm throbbing, her whole body aches still from the fight to save July, Granny is not afraid of Regina, no, the old wolf has never been afraid of Regina and her power, so what then makes the wolf afraid.

When John sees the blood he shrieks almost as loudly as Granny had done, Granny lets the large man get between them, his hand easily covering the whole of Regina's forearm, "What happened?" he questions, and Regina shakes her head, watches with discontent as Granny limps off, the old woman is wiping at her eyes.

"I made this for Robin," Regina answers, she fills another jar, and that is all there is, four jars out of the five she was hoping to fill.

"No," the large man shakes his head, "to your arm, Regina, what did th-"

"I did it," she answers, and when she goes to stand he steadies her, and it's unsanitary for him to have his hands on her open and bleeding wound, dangerous too, but he doesn't know of diseases spread through blood, but Regina does, had arrived in Maine in the early eighties and had heard the name HIV in hated whispers from the newly formed townsfolk, she swats at his hand until he moves it, blood trails down her wrist, steady streams flowing to her hand, into her palm, it drips from her fingers.

"Why would you do such a thing?" John looks horrified.

"It was needed for the potion," she says, hunching down and grabbing one of the jars, and she will never admit to the satisfaction gleaned from slicing that blade through her own skin, it's a dangerous thing; she's not too far gone to not realize that.

When she takes a step and stumbles John extends an arm, but she shakes her head and walks to the doors of her chambers without his aid, pushes them open and the sight of Robin sickly on the bed will never become less painful, it makes her pause, before she shakes herself and takes sure steps across the stone, it's cold through her slippered shoes, autumn is falling fast outside the castle, the leaves will soon turn. Regina perches herself on the edge of the bed, her bloodied hand resting on her lap, staining her dress, she's lost count of the number of dresses she has stained with blood, she rests the jar against her thigh, "This will sting, Robin," she says, even knowing he cannot hear her, speaking to him brings her comfort, John closes the door after he enters, and he watches from the doorway as she dips her clean hand into the white and butter yellow concoction.

Robin flinches when she smears the potion across his wound, a comforting shush escapes her and she leans down closer to him, she dips her fingers for more and spreads that across his bare sweaty torso, even more spread over the curve of his shoulder, up the slope of his neck, she's caressing him, his hot to touch skin, his yellowed skin, she spreads the potion down his arm, the potion sinks into his skin, there and then gone in an instant, shimmering steam hovering before fading away, and she keeps going over and over, until the jar is empty.

"There we go, dear," she says, rests a hand on his cheek, his stubble biting into her palm, his mouth open a fraction as he draws in noisy breaths, she swallows thickly before leaning forward and kissing him softly, a close lipped kiss that's filled with melancholy, and as she draws away his eyes flicker, but they don't open and Regina wants to weep, but she will not, she won't.

"Will it heal him?" John asks, clearing his throat and he'd averted his gaze when she'd leaned in to kiss Robin, he's still looking at the ground.

Regina shakes her head, "It will allow him to fight the poison," she corrects.

"Will it save him?" John begs, he wants the answer to be yes so badly, but Regina can't lie.

"It will give him a chance," she tells him the truth, and when he insists in helping her dress her newest injury Regina shakes her head forcefully and tells him she'll be perfectly fine.

John gives her a look filled with confusion, with concern, but he lets it go, leaves her and it takes her at least an hour to make it to the washroom, to clean the cut, she runs it under the taps and it's not a choice at all when her right hand wraps around the wounded arm, she squeezes so hard she causes fresh blood to spill, the satisfaction she feels is a dangerous thing.

* * *

"How are you today, dear?" Regina asks, she seats herself on the edge of the bed, the other woman, and Regina can read the displeasure even through the heavy bruising and swollen features, the other woman studies the bandage now wrapped around Regina's arm.

A grunt comes from the woman.

Regina thinks of extending her hand to Adrienne, but her hand stays where it is, folded over her own on the bedspread, "July lit a candle today, Adrienne," Regina tells the woman, if only to make those flinty eyes turn away, "lit it with her magic. It's a very important first lesson in regards to controlling the elements," Regina frowns, remembering the hard face July had worn when conjuring the flame, she'd almost been burned once and never again the eight year old had said, rage in that lovely face as the candle lit, "I'll have her conjure water next," Regina's frown only grows, July's magic is motion, it is dance and action and movement, but when she'd lit that candle, it was rage she'd used, it tasted so much like Regina's own magic for just a moment and it will not do, Regina will ease the little girls rage and her magic will be as it was meant to be.

"June?" comes from the mangled lips; a whimper of pain with it and Regina pretends not to hear, reaches for the cup at the bedside and holds it to Adrienne's lips as the other woman drinks.

"She's timid," Regina says when Adrienne has drunk her fill and leans back on the pillows propping her up, "it's not a bad thing, she'll grow to match her sister soon enough."

The woman says 'thank you', for what Regina wants to ask, but Adrienne falls asleep, and Regina stays and watches her for two minutes, for what Regina wants to ask, for getting you beaten so badly you almost perished, for having one of your daughters almost burned alive, for poor June with her mangled fingers, healed now but June looks at her hand, clutches at it, like she still feels the pain, it's not Regina's fault, Regina knows, she _knows_, and she knows that Robin sick and poisoned is not her fault, but this is what happens to those around her. It has always been what happens to those around her.

* * *

Cuddling with Roland before bedtime has become routine, but even still the boy looks so happy to have her there with him, he clutches at her like he's afraid she'll melt away. That fear is justified, he has known her sick and injured longer then healthy and whole, and even now she feels weak and she aches, aches everywhere, is still bruised, the back of her head awash with searing agony if touched at all.

The boy is ill himself.

She'd heard of it after. Heard of it from Arthur.

How Roland had thrown himself on her weeping, no amount of Merry Men enough to hold him back, it had been her he'd thrown himself on, Robin had laid next to her, they'd both been bleeding and unconscious, but it was Regina the boy had thrown himself on. Whispering words Arthur couldn't hear, over and over and the bright lilac had shown from Roland, from the hands he had laid on her stomach, the light spluttered and dimmed and Roland had screamed at the top of his tiny lungs, no, he'd screamed, no, and the light had grown even further, the whole hall a blaze of light that no one could see through and when it had faded Roland had been slumped over Regina's middle, his ear against her belly button, pale and lifeless and he had not woken for two days.

She wonders why she feels so awful after he'd used so much, but he's even now so lifeless, so pale, and he's only a little child, questions can wait.

"How was your day, dear?" Regina asks, tucks the child more firmly against her, the boy sighs, has a hand on her belly, tiny hand resting there, plucking at the threads of her dress.

"I asked my love to marry me," Roland answers.

Regina smiles, "oh?" she asks, the boy has been sweet on June since the girl had given him that first beautiful flower, he called her nothing but 'my love,' the whole thing is almost too sweet to swallow, "and what was her answer?"

"She has to think about it," Roland grumbles, but then shrugs.

"How do you feel about that?" Regina runs a hand up and down Roland's back, feels him relax, he'll be asleep in a few minutes.

His voice is slurry with tiredness and he tucks his face into her shoulder, words muffled, "I would wait all my life for my love."

It's quiet between them until he falls asleep, she slips out from his bed, makes it to the hall before tears start falling down her face, and she doesn't even know why she is crying, but she is, the kind that leave your snorting and snotting everywhere, the kind that leaves you no dignity.

"uhhm," there's shuffling feet, barely heard above the blood pounding in Regina's ears, over her gasping breath, "Regina?"

Regina turns back to the wall, hides her face, wiping at her eyes, but she can't get her breath under control. She flinches back from the hand Ruby lands on her shoulder. "What?" Regina chokes out, walking away already, the young wolf follows after.

"Hey, you know, it's okay," Ruby says, sounds like she's actually trying to be consoling, one of the casters forced into the tower is able to produce light without flame, has little balls of light that float out of his hands, they look like little light bulbs, and from their light Regina can turn and see perfectly the out of depth look on Ruby's face, Ruby throws her a smile, wide and with all those straight white teeth, "Snow was a weepy mess too, when she was pregnant."

Regina stops walking, so abruptly that Ruby smacks into her back, "What did you just say?" Regina asks, and she hopes she'd misheard, she knows she hadn't.

When Regina turns Ruby takes a step back, her eyebrows furrowing and those perfect white teeth on full display in a gasp of dawning discomfort, "oh, my god," Ruby says, hands up and she takes another step away, "I'm sorry, I mean congratulations, but I thought you'd know?" one of her shoulders rise, "With your magic or something?" and she lets out a breath that might have been a chuckle, and she fidgets more and more as Regina's stares and stares, tears still tracking down her face, her breathing sill hiccupping and there's a tight grip on her chest, she's not getting enough air.

"How," Regina's sentence falters, and a hand rises all on its own to clutch at the fabric over her flat stomach.

Ruby shrugs again, she taps her nose with an index finger, "The nose knows, right?" she lets out that uncomfortable chuckle again.

Regina shakes her head, fingers digging into her stomach as she turns with a hand bracing her against the wall as she flees, fast steps away and Ruby follows after. Regina can't be, be, she can't even think the word_,_ bile rises in her throat, because she'd never had a baby that lived, she'd just lost Henry, Henry, her baby and his absence stabs like red hot pokers, Robin had come inside her exactly _once_ and that was only a week ago and he even now lays DYING and she can't, she can't she ca-

She trips over a carelessly strewn shoe, falls forward and Ruby's arms wrap around her, save her from a fall and the tears are back, awful messy things, she's close to the Merry Men now, hears them speaking and laughing softly down the hall, they hear her, her noisy sobs, their heads turn and they stand and walk to her, four of them, and she tries to tuck herself into the hard stone of the wall, slithering down to the ground and out of Ruby's hold. The young wolf is ready to bolt and Regina screams at her to just go, go! Until she finally does.

Ruby turns tail and scampers off just as George kneels beside Regina, he calls her name.

When he lays a hand on her back she swats at him, "Don't touch me!" she says, wants to scream it, to tear the words into his flesh, but they come out as sobs.

"Alright," he agrees and he does not touch her again, but he stays beside her and that's nearly as enraging.

"Go away!" Regina tries to scream, it's a loud sob, but he stays, deep worry in his face and when he shares a glance at Little John crouching beside him Regina flings her arms out again, pushing at George's chest, knocking him over onto his ass, "Go!"

"Regina," Little John says before he kneels down and hugs her, arms tight around her and she struggles against him, pushing at him, but he's nearly twice her size and she's a sobbing, out of breath mess, she's nearing a panic attack, her attempts to escape him are all for naught. Until her fight leaves her.

It's a terrifying thing to realize she feels safe in his embrace, this man that Robin calls brother, she clutches at Little John's shirt, weeps into his chest, a baby, Robin's baby, she thinks, and it will die within her like all of Leopold's children, her toxic womb ending the life of another innocent babe, and she weeps and weeps, all she does is weep now, she'll never admit to watching Doctor Phil with a glass of wine in the middle of the afternoon, but he'd said once that crying was the only way to heal, the healthy way to heal, and she'd rolled her eyes and drunk more wine, and this doesn't feel like healing, it feels like a hacksaw against the ribcage.

Robin might not even survive the poison, that thought has more desperation to her cries, because she would lose him, and then lose _their baby _(those two words have a picture in her head, a picture of a blue eyed baby with dark hair, girl or boy she doesn't know, but the babe has Robin's dimples), and she has survived so much, but that would end her, she'd lost Henry, had barely kept going after his loss, and to lose Robin, that's not something she can live through, not piled on to everything else, that would be the blow that finally felled her, one stroke after a hundred.

John is running a hand up and down her back, speaking and she can't hear the words, can see nothing from around his girth, she tries to tell herself that no one can see her, no one can see her weakness, crying alone is something she is not a stranger to, but crying in front of the Merry Men, in front of Ruby, the shame only causes more tears, but she knows the eye of every man is on her, Robin's brothers all of them and they look at her and see a weeping weak woman and that is not what she is, she is strong, she has survived, but still she cries.

Cries for a long while, it exhausts her, leaves her aching body limp and her mind emptied, hollow, her eyes itch.

"Regina," John cups the back of her head when he moves her from against his chest, and good, because she doesn't even have the strength to hold her head up, her red rimmed eyes, bloodshot eyes, turn up to look at him. "Are you hurt?" he asks, and it's a question he's been asking this whole time, now that her mind is clear, it's hollow, she recalls he'd been asking and her only answer had been tears.

"No," she answers, her voice sounds strange to her own ears, toneless, "no," I'm pregnant, she almost says, but the words are trapped, she won't be pregnant long, she knows, a hand comes to her belly, lays there flat.

John looks down at the hand, frowns, "Does that hurt?" he lays his own hand over hers, his hand dwarfs hers.

It hurts worse than you can ever imagine, she thinks, she has to say goodbye to this child, it's barely a week old in her womb and she must say goodbye, it hurts worse than anything else. "No," she answers, removes her hand from her belly, from under his, "I'm not hurt," John presses his hand against her stomach, as if testing her claim that it does not hurt and when she does not wince, she doesn't react at all, he finally lifts his hand off her.

He looks doubtful still, studies her tear tracked face, the slump of her shoulders, she takes the time to glance from around him at Robin's men, they're staring at her with discernible levels of concern, some seem to seethe, are antsy, she can't imagine why, old Farouk with his dark eyes seem to stare and stare like he knows her pain, she's too tired to feel shame when John bundles her up in his arms, picks her up and this is not the first time he has carried her, it doesn't make it easier to accept his help, but there's a familiarity when she sinks into his hold.

When he lays her next to Robin there's awkwardness, but he pats her arm before retracing his steps out of the room.

Regina rolls onto her side, faces Robin, she has not felt right sleeping beside him at night, not when he is feverish and sick, but beds are in short supply in the tower, she sleeps as far as the large bed will allow, but she reaches out a hand now and lays it over his heart, the steady thud thud giving her comfort, "There's a child, Robin," she tells him, he does not move, "it won't live," she whispers, her voice cracks, he does not move. "I'm sorry," she slides towards him, kisses his stubbled cheek softly, "I'm so sorry, Robin," she rolls and faces away from him, near the edge of the bed and before she falls asleep she lays a hand over her belly once more, she falls asleep to the vision of that blue eyed, dark haired babe, the babe with dimples, she falls asleep haunted by the image of it's lifeless body being pulled from the womb by a midwife, she wakes in the middle of the night to the nightmare of Robin screaming at her, as Leopold had done after the blue baby.

She awakens twice more from that terror in the night before she kisses Robin, she hesitates before doing so, and flees his side.

Regina finds herself cuddling Roland in the boy's bed, the nightmares still come, but his warm little body soothes her back to sleep each time.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	37. Chapter 37

**Authors note, so a person was confused so here we go, We haven't reached where Robin's POV left off, okay? I understand that people skip these bolded parts but I was hoping even in just the story text that it was clear, and I guess I was wrong but I don't know how to fix that so? **

**unrelated thing, on tumblr I just saw a post that said plot twist: Marian falls for Regina, and at first I was like heh, but now I'm like my god, I wanna write it, should I write it EDIT I meant as another story, not added to this one, that wouldn't work, nah man**

* * *

Roland is awake before she is; he's lying quietly in her arms, a smile on his face as he rests his hands against her stomach. Regina thinks of the power he'd used on her, power so great that he'd been unconscious for two days and she had not felt better for it, he'd placed his hands on her stomach and his magic had swelled blindingly. "Roland," she says, but the question dies in her throat, what even was the question, because it's obvious he's aware of _something_, but he's four years old, does he even know where a baby comes from?

He smiles, gleeful, and snuggles closer to her, his hands off her belly "Good morning!" Roland says.

She swallows, her throat suddenly closing up, "Good morning, dear," she responds, Regina cups the back of his neck, kisses the top of his head. "Did you have happy dreams?" she asks him, asks him that instead of asking him what he can see, what he knows, what that blinding magic had done to the life inside her, he is only a little boy and the boy reads the tensing of her muscles.

Little hands return to her abdomen, run in circles over her stomach, "I dreamt I was a lion," he answers her; she can imagine the grin that is stretching over his face.

"What did you do as a lion?" her voice is thick, she gathers up both his hands with one of her own, she cradles them rather than letting them remain rubbing soothing circles against the tensed muscles of her middle.

"I ran!" he answers, he sighs, "I ran so fast! I played with my sister," one of his hands escape her hold, finds its place back on her belly.

A strained laugh trills out of her, it sounds very much like a sob, it half is one, and the boy worms out of her embrace, tilts his head looking at her, so young and terribly confused. "Are you sad?" he asks, looking at her twisted up face that is clearly not at all happy.

Is she sad? Her mouth opens, stays opened with no words said at all.

The door opening is a blessing.

Walter walks in; the smile on his face for the boy shrinks at the sight of her curled on the bed, his head tilts and his gaze moves a little as if to check this is the room he'd meant to enter. He takes it in stride, his smile regrows, "If a certain boy is wanting breakfast, he'd best rush before it's all gone."

Roland gasps, as if the Merry Men would actually let him go hungry, the thought has Regina smiling a small smile as Roland bursts from the bed, the blanket thrown off her as he sweeps it off himself, he's a blur out the door, distraught at the thought of facing the day without a slab of ham in him.

"M'lady?" Walter asks, uneasy on the balls of his feet as he watches her set her legs off the edge of the bed, toe on her soft shoes, she rights her nightgown over her knees, grabs her robe from the foot of the bed and wraps it around her, ties it tightly about her waist, she licks her lips before she tries to smile at him. "Breakfast?" he asks, Walter steps towards her, holds out a hand to help her rise, she sighs before curling her fingers in his palm.

Roland has a mouth full of egg when she sits beside him, but it doesn't stop his smile, one little hand darts out to her stomach, resting there for a long moment, then drawn back, he does it periodically through the meal, as if to check all is well.

It does not go unnoticed, his hand darting back and forth, men are following the movement, Regina eats a small portion of eggs, a single overcooked slice of toast, and that's all she can take for food. She ignores looks thrown her way, stares thrown her way, they're staring at her and Roland's tiny hands, his fingers smoothing at her flat stomach, she listens as the men talk, talk of monkeys laying siege, how the monsters grow agitated, when Roland starts to speak, his head tilted down, his hand on her stomach, he's talking to the baby.

She can't hear at all what he's saying, can only see the top of his curly head as it ducks down to whisper to her belly, she threads fingers through that curly hair, other hand covering her eyes, blocking the sight of Little John, his mouth opening in a soundless gasp of comprehension as he watches Roland whisper.

"Roland, come boy," that's Aniol, his rough voice beckoning and Roland's hand leaves her, she feels him leave her side, his curls slipping through her fingers, but she does not uncover her eyes, Regina stays on her cushion on the floor, the hall is cool, autumn bringing a chill to the early morning air, she shivers even with the warmth of her thick robe.

"Regina," Little John says, and she uncovers her eyes, opens them and finds him with his brow scrunched, his eyes darting over her form, she knows she looks no different from the day before, she will not start to show until her seventeenth week, if she makes it that far, that was how it was with her other pregnancies, but the way he looks at her, it's like she's grown a second head, perhaps a few tentacles, his eyes are bulging.

"I don't want to speak of it," she says, her voice carries, the seven men still sitting with their plates all hear her. She doesn't want to speak of it, she doesn't want to think of it, because it will be gone soon enough, and it's burning hot sorrow that almost makes her gag, in Storybrooke there were hospitals and tests, doctors and machines, incubators and medicine, there would have been hope, but here? Here, this castle, this realm, here is where she has already lost four would-be children, here is where she murdered her own father, murdered her own husband, there is no hope here, here is where hope comes to die.

He responds with a jerking nod, easy acceptance and she's grateful.

* * *

Robin flinches when she puts the second jar of potion over his wound, over his chest and shoulder, up towards his neck. He flinches and groans, his eyes flicker.

Regina leans and puts the empty jar on the nightstand; she stays and sits on the edge of the bed, one leg curled under her, looks at him, a hand over his beating heart, snaked under the warm shirt he wears, skin to skin she can feel the thump of his shining red heart. Robin loves her, he has said so, he is the soul mate the fairy dust had shown her those long years ago, and he loves her like Leopold never had. Robin loves her, but what is love when a child is dead? What is love when happiness turns to ashes, when what was meant to be a bright bundle of joy becomes only red gore on a bedsheet, when the bouncing baby comes out blue and lifeless, cold, silent, a mess of flesh that slips free without a single cry leaving its never used lungs?

What is love in the face of that?

Regina does not know because Leopold had never loved her, he'd screamed at her, angry beyond reason after each failed attempt at an heir, but Robin loves her, he _loves_ her, and he would not do what Leopold had done, he _wouldn't_. He is not awake to reassure her, it leaves her feeling alone, holding onto his limp hand, she feels terribly alone.

When Regina leans down to kiss him before leaving, his lips move under hers. But he does not wake.

* * *

"There is beauty in the flame," Regina says to June, Regina has her hands on the girl's shoulders, gentle grip as they sit before the unlit candle.

"There is?" June whispers, turns her head to look at Regina.

Regina smiles as best she can, "Of course, close your eyes and think of it," the little girls big, dark eyes close, Regina pets the girls beautiful halo of hair, "reds and so many different shades of orange, the flickers of yellow, and at its center sometimes it burns white, can you see it, dear?"

June nods, she licks her lips, her magic growing.

Regina leans down, close to the girl's ear; soft smile in place, "Fire can be so beautiful, awash with color, it's alive."

"It can hurt," June says back, she shifts in her seat; her eyes remain closed, "can burn."

"True," Regina acknowledges, "anything in this world can hurt you, dear," the girl is six and Regina can see the consternation that grows at the words, they aren't the words you should use with a six year old, but that doesn't make it any less the truth. "The danger doesn't take away the beauty, June, they go hand in hand."

The girl frowns, her brow scrunching further, Regina fears this lesson wasted, is despairing and thinking of how else she can appeal to the girls inherent magic, when the candle lights.

June smiles, she's missing a front tooth and her smile is small when she points it at Regina, the girl hopes for praise but fears scorn, June is clutching at the fingers on her right hand, the fingers that had been broken, now healed, it's a nervous tick the girl does often now. Regina's wraps an arm around June's shoulders, "Well done," Regina chirps, looks right into the girls eyes and smiles.

A thump is heard, Roland down the hall has dropped the folded laundry in his arms and runs forward, "My love," he cries, skids to a stop beside them, he reaches out both hands, one on June's arm, one on Regina's belly, "did you do it?" he asks June, he's vibrating he's so excited, looking at that lit candle.

June nods, Roland ducks down to hug her, and when he releases the girl two years older than him June smiles and ducks her head down, obviously smitten.

They are too sweet to swallow, Regina kisses Roland's forehead, bids them both to go play, with the casters in the tower Roland has seen an influx in his available playmates, one mother had approached Regina, all but shoved her son at Roland, 'I heard what you did for that girl,' the woman had said, and nodded a hard nod, tsked her tongue, 'so if your boy needs a friend I've got one right here for him.'

The boy, Liam, had become Roland's best friend in the matter of an hour, and Liam is who June and Roland run to now, running steps and they are holding hands as they scamper out the hall, giggles echo up the stair along with the soft patter of their feet.

When the guard enters not a minute later a thrill of fear runs through her as she stands from the ground, the children must have passed him on the stairs, he has his hand on his swords hilt, as if only waiting to pull it free, and the thought that Roland had been so close to that almost drawn blade has Regina raising her chin, all dignified and displeased Queen as the guards boots clunk along the hall, the Merry Men glare, mean eyes and Regina can't remember a time when they even looked at _her_ like this, and she is the Evil Queen.

"You've been called for," he says, a booming voice to match his barrel chest, he looks straight at her, a bark, an order, the tone has her digging in her heels before she's even gone through a rational thought process.

"Called for?" Regina echoes, incredulous and offended, her arms cross, chin raised, "I'm not a dog to come when called."

He smirks, he's got fleshy lips, horse teeth, she recognizes him from Storybrooke, he'd been on unemployment for those twenty eight years, a drunk too, he'd passed out in the park one winter, almost froze to death, she doesn't remember his name. He's got haughty smirk, "You look like a bitch to me."

Farouk slides to her side, tightens, coiled, a trap waiting to spring; the Merry Men up and down the hall drop their things at hearing her insulted in their own hall, their claimed space.

The guard sees he's made a mistake, eyes flitting about the room, he adjusts his attitude in the face of ten heavily weaponed men and one pissed off woman with magic unknowingly swirling in her eyes.

"Your Majesty," he says after clearing his throat, "Queen Snow bids you to the council," he stands to the side, flings an arm out like he expects her to walk before him, as if she would show this fool her back.

"I'll find my own way there," Regina tells him, ice cold, he looks on with confusion, he thinks the only way out of the tower is past the guards, idiot. When she goes to turn from him he grabs at her arm, his gloved hand gripping at her and the sound of ten blades being drawn fills the hall with the schlink of steel.

He's frozen in place; his horse teeth covered in pursed lips, eyes darting, anger growing in his pale blue eyes, his anger is no match for her own, a spark of electricity races up his arm from her, he sneers in disdain, grimaces, his hand tightens on her when she tries to pull free, his other hand twitches on the hilt of his blade.

In the twenty eight years she spent in Storybrooke she could count the number of people who'd ever touched her, even so much as a shoulder brush, with her fingers and still have some left over, this newfound bravery in people (in men with delusions of power beyond reality) to grab at her whenever they please has her seething, it has her worried too.

A hand on his shoulder spins him around, he keeps his grip on her and she's thrown forward, stays on her feet and growls, stays the magic that begs her to tear him limb from limb, he wears the decoration of a Knight, and though she only knows him as the drunk who'd passed out in a snowbank, she doesn't know how well murdering a knight would go over with the people of this castle, Arthur spins him, is nose to nose.

Arthur has a sharp curved dagger across the Knight's neck, landed there so fast she didn't see him move it at all, resting it there gently, filled with malice, his words whisper like a caress, it's frightening, _he_ is frightening, "I will kill you if you don't let her go."

The Knight swallows, his adams apple bopping, the blade is immovable against his throat and a drop of blood is seen, the Knight let's her go, fingers splaying open, stay there in the air as she steps away, Farouk raises a hand to the small of her back when she steps back beside him, "Done," the Knight says, shrugs minutely, "There, alright?"

Arthur smiles, touches his forehead to the Knight's, eyes unblinking, "If you ever touch her again, I will hack your hands off."

Another swallow, another drop of blood, and Arthur lets him go, the Knight walks hurriedly, looks back twice at her, and at Arthur, and turns away each time with a violent swipe of his head.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asks, when he looks at her he softens, that frightening coldness now gone from him, he is jovial, amicable Arthur once more, the man who tells her jokes, who makes her laugh.

"I'm fine," Regina answers, a sigh. "I'll have to go," she tells him, is expecting a fight from someone, and they don't look happy, Farouk and Arthur, Aniol picking his things back up from the ground, but no once voices a word against her wishes.

"Don't go alone, please," Arthur asks, pleads with her.

And he had asked, he had not ordered, had not demanded, he had asked, so she agrees.

Farouk is her silent companion, his presence predatory beside her, but she is not the prey, he's lean and powerful, he stalks in the dark, his foot falls make no noise against the stone of the tunnel they find themselves in, built with magic years ago for no other reason than to appease her paranoia of cages, of being trapped. With this escape she is not truly trapped to the tower, the guards mean nothing, meant little in the first place, but this secret little way is far easier than fighting all the ineffectual guards dear Snow has placed at the base of the tower, Regina can come and go as she pleases, never again a prisoner, least of all in her own home.

She raises a finger to her grinning lips when they reach the base of the tunnel stairs, a bid to be silent that has the man with no vocal cords snorting silently and nodding his head. He looks almost surprised when all there is to exiting is opening a door, as if he expected some great magical show, he should not be able to _see_ the door though, it's spelled to her eyes only, not even Zelena, with their shared blood, should be able to see it.

"You have magic," she says quietly, shutting the door quietly behind them, it shuts with a dull clunk.

He nods his head.

_Truth._

Like a gentle breeze the word comes to her, easy in the air as it passes her, Farouk speaks the only way he's able, with his magic, and she speaks back.

_You see the truth? A rarity._

He smiles, a gnarly twisted thing, his scared skin stretching across his sharp bones.

_My mother always told me I was one of a kind._

Regina breathes out an amused breath of air.

* * *

"-witch wants then have her take her!"

Regina pauses beside the open door of the council chambers, there are no guards, Farouk stops at her side.

"She hasn't made any demands!" David's voice swells above all the rest, there are more voices then she'd ever heard in the room before, had they invited the rabble? "We don't know what she wants!"

"They're sisiters anyway!"

"-working together-"

"Even if-"

Farouk gives her smirk, one eyebrow raised, and she smirks back before sliding into the doorway, her skirts sweeping against the floor, "Sorry I'm late."

The reaction is immediate, silence, it's a veritable crowd of people, Lords and Ladies all, Snow has caved to the pressures of old world ways it would seem.

Regina saunters forward, Farouk a few steps behind, a little to the side, he can look menacing easily, his scared face paired with her twisted smile has one Lord visibly shaking in his boots, his Lady wife looks particularly embarrassed.

Snow actually smiles when she sees Regina, there are no chairs, everyone stands and Snow pats the table next to her, an invitation that Regina does not take, she stands steps away, the rooms new focus point as bodies turn to keep her in sights.

"The Heart of the kingdom _is_ gone," Snow says, looks away from Regina, her hand sliding to rest over her midriff, Regina's eyes narrow on that hand.

"How do you know that?" Regina asks, and she studies the girl closer, the girl has gained weight, it's visible in her face.

David answers, a hand coming over Snow's on her belly, it curves gently outwards, "Snow entered the vault under the ballroom, its empty. No jewel, nothing. The witch must have taken it."

"You're pregnant?" Regina asks, eyes flicking from that gently curved belly and up to Snow's sparkling eyes, you need to have produced a male heir to enter the Sepulcher, she looks up to Snow's rounder, plumper, glowing face, pregnancy suits Snow as it never had Regina, the answer is clear without words.

A huge smile, so filled with happiness, and how, how can she be so easily happy, a smile spills across Snow's face, her eyes sparkle, her skin glows, "And it must be a boy!" Snow says.

It's not sadness nor rage that runs through her, her only thought is of course, of course, Snow is good, she is good, she'll give birth to a screaming infant, a strong son, and Regina's babe will die.

Farouk's hand presses more stridently into her back, her name comes from him, floats in the air past her ear, a whisper on nonexistent wind. What truth does he see here?

"Congratulations," Regina says, an empty offering, it's what one says is it not, Snow looks at her, her smile slips off her face, congratulations, Regina thinks, looking at the gentle curve of Snow's healthy pregnancy.

Snow's eyes flicks down, it's only by following Snow's gaze that Regina realizes she'd raised a hand to her own still flat stomach, she removes it as if burned, swallows harshly.

"Congratulations, Princess!" Blue's voice comes from the open window, and in she flies, growing to human size in moments, she is not alone, Nova on one side, it's Tinkerbelle on the other.

Tinkerbelle smiles at Regina, Regina thinks she does so in return, but it's all through shock, polite reciprocity programmed by twenty eight years in a small town, because actually Regina thinks she's quite close to, to, fainting maybe, running away screaming, Farouk's hand on her back has magic altering her sight. He is showing her truth.

Blue's truth is a horror, cold, it's cold. She wears the mask of humanity, as all fairies do, wears a pretty face with a pointy chin and nose, too big eyes, but under it all she is scales, cold hard scales, huge luminous eyes that constrict, they are yellow, they are sharp, she is damp water and the smell of decay fills Regina's nose.

Nova and Tinkerbelle next to her could almost pass for something human, if not for soft scales covering them from head to toe, is this what they are underneath? Regina has never thought of it, fairies existing for hundreds of years before her birth, wearing the faces of pretty girls for centuries, Regina had never questioned what they were.

Blue's yellow eyes turn to Regina, Farouk tears his hand from Regina's back, and Blue is once more the woman with delicate features, and wide eyes, "Your Majesty?" the fairy asks.

Regina blinks, she had not been listening, didn't even comprehend that words were being spoken.

Blue's eyes narrow.

"Regina, what do you know of the Heart?" David asks, his eyebrows raised when Regina turns her head to include him in her gaze, she keeps Blue at the center of her sight, afraid now as she had never been before, it had been annoyance, it had been disdain, all manner of snide and bitter feelings, this is the first time Regina has ever thought to be afraid, the smell of decay, the stench of rotting flesh, won't leave her nose.

The story of the Heart was in the white book, the white leather bound book in the hidden library, "Only stories," Regina answers David, shrugs a shoulder.

"Tell us," Blue bids, "_please_."

Regina adjusts her weight on her feet, tensed, the urge to roll her eyes strong, she won't take her gaze of Blue though, "There was a Queen," Regina remembers, thinks back to when she'd read that whole awful book, days spent hungry and alone reading the book, "with a heart so pure that it lived on after her," Regina shrugs, "another story talks of a battle, some war won with her heart. It reappears over centuries."

"It must be some artifact?" Snow asks, turns to Blue, "It can't truly be a human heart?"

Blue tilts her head, hands clasping together in front of her, "A heart drawn from a chest through magic becomes enchanted, they are powerful things," she frowns, "I doubt a human heart could carry on so long, even if enchanted," the left unsaid notion that humans are weak seems to be only evident to Regina.

A cloud of red erupts by the windows, mad giggling heard before the sight of him, "I wouldn't be so sure, dearie," he cries, gleefully mad, Rumple.

The castle shakes.

His name is a whisper through her lips, relief spreading through her, she's happy to see him, followed quickly by dread, he shouldn't have been able to get past the shield, even with the power of the Dark One, fear has her blood pounding, but she is glad to see him, had thought him dead along with Pan, but now he is alive, she isn't sure how she feels fully, he smiles that awful smile when he sees her, hands in the air with his fingers curled in an elongated gesture, the action is so familiar, years as his pupil flashing before her eyes.

"I'm afraid it's not to be a happy reunion," he cackles, unhinged, Regina's brow furrows, studying him, he is different, it's the last coherent thought she has before he freezes Farouk next to her, and Rumple's hand delves into her, his probing fingers, topped with yellowed and sharp nails, she can feel them against her insides, pressure, awful pressure, his intruding hand wraps around her heart.

The castle shakes again, a sound like fingernails against a chalkboard fills the air, the windows shatter, stained glass depictions of heroes and knights and their grand deeds collapsing and shattering on the floor, the Lords and their Lady wives scream, panicked as the flee the council chamber.

His face flows from madness to sanity in one swoop, his features softened, sad, filled with sorrow and she remembers when he had soothed back her hair and promised her revenge, had promised her and swept her bloodied sheets away with a twitch of the same fingers that now squeeze around her heart, he looks tormented when she gasps and looks up at him, gasping and scrabbling at his arm, "I'm sorry, Regina," Rumple says, his arm pulling back. Regina grabs at his sleeve, eyes slamming shut, he rips the beating organ out, she feels instantly empty, hollowed, he squeezes and she falls to her knees.

Snow is screaming, somewhere.

Regina rests a hand over where her heart should be.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	38. Chapter 38

"Rumple," she gasps, hand clutching at her dress front, savage against the cloth as she turns her gaze up to her dark heart, a glowing underbelly of shining red flowing from between Rumple's fingers. Regina opens her mouth to say more, is cut off by a cackle.

Rumple is unrecognizable once more, mad, unhinged in a way he has never been before, his flamboyance had always been a mask, but it's the truth now. He squeezes his thin fingers around her heart, the pain makes her gasp, but her gaze stays on him, moves from his hand to his face, "Rumple," she repeats, "why, wha-why," she can't get a question out.

The castle shudders, there is the cracking of stone, mortar is crumbling like dust. The white lace of the castle's magic thrums into life, before fading out, it flickers like a lightbulb on its last legs and then it is gone, the sky outside has turned dark.

"my dagger," he's grimacing, his eyes though, his brows, are still twisted in manic glee, but his mouth has turned hard, a deep frown, his own features are fighting against each other, what has happened to him, "the dagger," he repeats.

The Dark One's dagger, the source of his power, his greatest weakness, Regina shakes her head, falls to her elbows on the ground as her heart is squeezed once more, it's terrible pain, has her crying out, but it is pain she has felt before, this is not the first time Rumple has ripped her heart from her. A lesson long ago, not soon before the King was killed, he'd ripped it out, it had been shining red then with only a handful of dark spots, Rumple had held it in his hands, squeezed and had her fall to her knees before him, 'not so mighty a Queen' he'd giggled, then he'd whispered to it, his voice controlling her, as if she were a puppet, he'd had her do silly things, things of no consequence, the violation, the control he'd held over her, had Regina so angry she couldn't see past her tears.

When he put her heart back, after hours of having her do whatever caught his fancy, Regina had exploded with magic, it had cracked like a whip through the air and struck him so fast he hadn't had time to block it or evade it, Regina had been too angry to think of anything but her rage, hadn't thought of consequences when she'd approached him as he slumped against the wall, had screamed at him to never do it again, had told him she'd kill him, destroy him and his home and his dagger, steal his power and watch him wither and cry like the coward he was if he ever did it again. He'd struck her down with a flick of his wrist, even still slumped against the wall, face contorted, more the monster then the man as he'd risen and loomed over her as he held her to the floor, Rumple had looked at her hard and long as he held her down, invisible bonds tightening around her throat as she thrashed and fought, he'd pinned her hands, his magic like huge nails through her palms, through skin and muscle and nerves, and into the hardwood floor.

'You'll never be more powerful than me, dearie,' he'd growled at her, his whole arm shaking, his hair still disheveled from when she'd struck him.

Regina had thought she was going to die that day, remembered blacking out, dark spots in her vision, her lungs aching and empty, unable to draw air, she thought she was dying when her eyes closed.

She'd woken up hours later, alone and in the dark. It was the last of their 'lessons' and she had searched and searched until she found a way to protect her heart from answering the orders of others.

An arrow slices through the air; Rumple sees it approaching and makes no move to stop it, the arrow thuds dully into his abdomen. He focuses on Regina, ignores Snow who is preparing another shot.

The tallest tower of the castle collapses, she can see it out the now glassless window, it just crumbles, tall and strong one moment, and then it just falls away, a graceful arc to the huge slabs of stone as they fall heavy to the ground far below. the bodies of those unlucky souls still in the tower are just as graceful, as if they are flying instead of falling, it's a terrible boom when it all lands.

He's panting, '-has my dagger," he chokes out.

Even the Dark One doesn't have the strength to do this, not this and what is happening in the sky, a swirling black mess of unnatural clouds, lightening flashing but with no thunder. Is it the Heart of the kingdom that gives him this power?

"Zelena?" Regina guesses, dreading it.

Rumple nods his head as another arrow lands in his gut, the force of it has him stepping back, his nod is jerky, like a machine in need of oiling his head stops and spurts.

Snow shoots another arrow, shoots it along with a cry of desperation, shoots it right into Rumple's wrist, so close to Regina's heart, the heart falls to the ground from Rumple's suddenly slack fingers.

Regina lunges at it, it bounces slightly, not so fragile as to shatter on the ground, she lunges and grabs it with shaking hands, scuttling back once it's in her grasp, she's not fast enough to avoid Rumple's other hand, he has it in her hair, pulling terribly, he pulls her back and he's whispering into her ear, a sing song voice, "Get my sisters heart," he says, he sings the orders given to him, "destroy the castle", Regina has already sunk the organ back through her rib cage, he's purring into her ear, "kill her darling suitor," she wrenches herself from him, the handful of hair in his grasp is torn from her scalp as she flings herself away.

She thinks of Robin, unconscious and sick in the third tallest tower, even as the second tallest tower collapses outside the windows, as graceful as its brother as it crumbles and falls, the screams from outside are deafening, Rumple cackles once more, advances with his hands upraised, as if to just reach in and grab her heart again.

Regina thinks of Robin, of Roland, of the men and the casters in the tower, Farouk is still frozen standing where Rumple had left him, no, Regina thinks, no, the word is her whole world for a moment, no, no, no, the heart so recently returned to her seems to swell, swollen against her ribs, and she stumbles as she pushes her arms out, pushing magic at Rumple and he'd been right all those years ago, because Regina had never been more powerful than the Dark One, but he's flung back now, hard and violently thrown back, no satisfaction comes, her thoughts are still of Robin, she will protect him, of Roland and sweet June, July and Adrienne, even the old bag Granny and Regina thinks of them all in that tower and when she strikes again the magic is visible on its way to Rumple.

It isn't purple.

Regina turns on her heel, grabs at Farouk, at his sleeve and has it in her grasp, she sends a surge of magic at Snow and David, removing them from the chamber, putting them in a courtyard below, but she and Farouk go to the inbetween, reemerge in a puff of, of, of smoke that still is not purple, they reemerge in the middle of the Merry Men.

Regina stumbles, Farouk is still frozen with Rumple's magic, Rumple will follow in moments, to do as he was ordered, no choice, the hand that holds the dagger controls him, he will take her heart, he will kill Robin, John has a hand on Regina's elbow, his mouth is moving but no words are getting through her ears, Regina shakes her head at him, the tower starts to sway.

Robin, she thinks, Roland and sweet June, Granny is in this tower, a scream comes from Regina's throat, it rips its way out with a swell of magic that is as white and downy as bleached cotton, escape she thinks, safety she thinks.

The tower is falling, stone loose and falling under their feet, weightless for a moment and then it is all white, it is light and blinding and white and Regina is still screaming, that white magic tearing at her throat, at her insides, white magic, light magic, she has never used this magic before, never known she possibly could, only the good wield white magic, Rumple had always said, only fools wield white magic, after every lesson with him her magic was darker and darker purple, and he'd said the darker the color, the more powerful the magic.

But the magic she's using now is white, and she saves everyone in the tower.

Transports them all through the inbetween with her, something unheard of, something no witch has ever done before, that white magic savages her even as she uses it to save all their lives. It leaves her gasping on her back on the ground when they reemerge; the sun is shining wherever they have landed, those unnatural dark clouds nowhere visible in the sky, John's blurry face is above her, his large hands on her shoulders and she tries to smile for him.

"Regina," he's saying her name, and somewhere close Roland is screaming her name too, and then his little body is over hers, his hands on her belly, he's a dark blob in her vision, his friend Liam behind him a lighter blob.

Regina tries to tell them she'll be fine, and she will be, the white magic seeps into the tears it's just ripped open, sinks into her bones, into her soul and it's soothing, the white is clean, it has her thinking of hospitals and detergent, the smell of a freshly cleaned kitchen, the smell of bleach, the white magic is surging forward, embracing her like an old friend long lost and Regina closes her eyes, only sleeping, and she tries to remember if this is what her magic could have been all along, if not for the rage and the hate and the torment, is this the magic she was born with?

* * *

**authors note, this is like the shortest chapter since the first chapter, and I'm sorry about that, but I'm about to go on and adventure so I just wanted to give you something before I went. and I think it had some whollop to it, like whooooaaah she's using light magic, that's intense yeah? yeah. anyway, hope you enjoy**

**robins pov next time, for all those that have missed him, I've missed him too.**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	39. Chapter 39

She is whole.

Regina is bent at the waist to speak with Roland and a pretty little girl, both children smile up at her, animated with sun on their faces, Regina has a basket at her hip, filled to the brim with some plant that Robin can honestly say he's never even seen before, her hair is swooped in a braid over one shoulder, it blocks sight of her face, her beautiful dark hair, it has flowers woven into it, she is whole and beautiful. Robin stumbles along faster, Arthur seems torn between actually helping him and holding him back, Robin shakes the other man off, his legs stiff, his whole body sore, his mind still muddy, but he'd awoken to daylight in his face, and when once again Arthur was stuttering out his answer as to where Regina was, _how_ she was, Robin had shouldered the other man out of the way, intent on seeing Regina himself.

Even after being shoved off Arthur follows along, a hand held out in case Robin falters, but now that Robin sees her, well, there is nothing that could possibly stop him from going to her, least of all his own weakened body and Robin stumbles on.

As he watches the little girl grows a flower in her hand, laughing as she grabs at the tail of Regina's braid and hooks the red bloom there.

Regina's bent form is thin, too thin, she's wearing a pair of trousers too long for her, the hem looks to have been rolled at least three times, a shirt that is also too big for her judging by the way the sleeves are also rolled, but her lovely hourglass curves are wrapped up in the soft brown leather of a vest that fits her almost like a second skin, there's a belt cinched at her waist, a waist so thin Robin feels worry as he stumbles even faster towards her, in all honesty she looks nothing like the stately Queen she'd once been, but she is beautiful, with dirty hands and those flowers woven in her hair, like some woodland spirit of legend come to realization right before Robin's eyes.

When she straightens and sees him she immediately drops the basket at her hip, her face blank as he approaches.

Robin had convinced himself, had only seen her for seconds before he did so, that Regina was fine and whole and well, but seeing her face, yellowed with old bruising, her face has him stop in his steps, even as Roland gives a stupendous yell of 'Papa!' and launches himself at Robin, Robin looks into Regina's face as he lifts the boy up. Her eyes, though her features remain blank, a carefully constructed mask that others might not see past, stoic with a vague smile pulling at her lips, her _eyes_ though are a storm of pain, devastation, heartache and fear, fear enough to paralyze, fear enough destroy everything they have built together, Robin understands all of it just meeting her eyes, and he won't allow it, he will not.

He steps forward, Roland still in his arms, the child speaking but Robin has not heard a word the boy has said, he holds Roland against his side with one arm, his muscles ache from the strain though he has held the boy less than a minute, Robin uses his other arm to crush Regina to him, her hands land on his chest in return, fist at the fabric of his shirt, her face tucked down against him, and that fear will not take her from him, he will not allow it, "I'm here," he says in her ear, hand in that beautiful braid, it's soft between his fingers, his fingers dislodge some yellow flower as he holds her in place against him, kissing her hair line now, "I love you," his voice is scratchy and raw from little use.

Where the fear came from he will resolve later, but now is for drawing her back to him, "Regina," Robin says her name, holds tighter and he can hear men hollering, his Merry Men seeing he is awake and they give joyous cries, but there are many more people here than just his Merry Men, a crowd of a camp, women and children, all in mishmash clothing, too big or too small, men young and old, magic crackles in almost every corner, Robin has no mind for it, his attention on Regina's tightly controlled breathes, in then out, in then out, she's working hard not to cry, "I'm here," he tells her, "I am here, Regina," she nods against his chest.

When she does pull back, her eyes still horribly deep pits of despair and fear, and what has happened, what has happened to her, Robin traces along a faded bruise on her face, she grimaces, shakes her head, "Sit," Regina orders, takes Roland from him.

Arthur has a hand on Robin's arm, helps him down to a log a few steps away, upon sitting Robin honestly thinks he won't be able to rise again, his legs ache and his strength is gone, he feels weak, sick, time has obviously passed since the fight to save the red haired child but Robin doesn't know how long. Leaves crinkle on the ground under their feet, the trees half bare above their heads; time has passed enough to see the arrival of autumn, time has passed enough to see Roland a little taller next to Regina as she places the boy down on his feet.

Regina sinks to her knees before Robin, Regina looks and looks like she expects Robin to fade away, her hand rests on his knee, grip hard and Robin lands his own hand over hers, feels it trembling.

"Enough beauty rest at last, Robin?" a hand claps against Robin's back, he turns to spy John behind him, relief is clear on John's face, but the large man looks older than his years, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes where they had not been before.

Robin grins up at Little John, a strained grin that feels clumsy on his lips, "I was strapping before, I must be absolutely ravishing now then?"

The laugh John let's out is only half genuine, a weight is in the air, a heavy thing, a _look_ is passed between John and Arthur before both men slink off calling well wishes and promising a fine meal in celebration, Roland and the pretty little girl drawn with them, it's purposeful, the way they leave he and Regina alone.

"What has happened?" Robin asks, she still looks at him with her knees in the moist dirt, the wet leaves soaking her borrowed trousers, her head cocks, sad and heartbroken but he is _here_, he is _right_ here, sitting right before her, there is no need for heartbreak, he cups her cheek and Regina leans into his touch.

"The castle was attacked, destroyed," she answers, evades the question he was really asking like a champion, because he was asking after her. She had not answered, the fear in her scares him too much for him to let them not speak honestly.

"Regina, please," Robin says, thumb tracing over a healing bruise, almost healed, and if it looks like this now, Robin cannot imagine what it looked like fresh.

She looks away from him, forces his hand off her face, her jaw twitching, her eyes wet, the hand she'd had on his knee retracts, her hands are in her lap, fingers wringing. Robin intends to wait it out, he would wait for her forever if he needed to, she blinks back tears threatening to fall, he sees her walls being built right before him and it makes his heart ache, to see her fortify herself against him.

"You're still ill, Robin," she says, "you'll need broth, a warm fire, come here," shaking her head and trying to rise, trying to move away from him and he _will not_ let the fear take her from him. He reaches out, snags her hand in his, Regina lets him stop her.

"Tell me what has happened, please," he asks, without a fire he _is_ cold in the autumn sunshine, his stomach is revolting from being empty, but he needs her more than warmth and nourishment.

She sighs, speaks of it all, a detached tone that does nothing to reassure Robin, she speaks of magic casters imprisoned in the tower before the fall of the castle, the fall of the castle at the hands of the Dark One, she speaks and speaks, details thrown at him until he's drowning in at least a month worth of narrative, she mentions herself only once, acknowledging that she saved people's lives, she throws it out like it is nothing.

Roland scampers back to them, she practically throws herself on him, tearing herself away from Robin, grabbing the boy and standing, that terrible mask still on her face, he had been asking after her, and she had not answered. Regina bids Walter over and has the fair-haired man help Robin stand, has him help him to a fire and sit.

And then she is gone, Roland gone with her as she holds the boy close on her hip, like ghosts through the bare trees of the forest, the forest that mourns the passing bloom of summer with every shriek of wind through brittle branches, they are gone.

* * *

"How are you?"

"Better if I got the truth from you," Robin snaps, puts his broth on the ground next to him, watches as John's face falls in the flickering fire light, it has been hours and Regina had not returned.

The red haired child, her name is July, she had come to thank Robin for trying to save her, had told him to maybe try harder if there's a next time. A laugh had snorted out Robin's nose at that. She'd sat with him for a time, chattering the way children do when they have found a willing audience, she'd left at a call from the pretty little girl Robin had seen with Roland earlier, they are sisters, July tells him before running off.

His men tiptoe around him, when he asks after Regina they avoid and dodge as if he is slinging arrows instead of words.

John is not like everyone else, John is Robin's best and oldest friend, "It's not my truth to tell you, Robin," John sighs, looking straight, there is nothing but firm rebuttal from him, no avoidance, it enrages Robin just as much.

"Tell me," Robin growls, kicks the bowl of broth and it goes sloshing into the fire, grease sizzling, "tell me, John, for any love your bear me, tell me!"

As the hours grew long, as the sun set, Robin's imagination grew wild, images of burns under Regina's loose clothing, images of hands on her, of bruises he could not see, bruises beside the ones that decorate her face, was she burned, was she raped, (that terrible thought keeps coming back to him, uselessness and rage has had him choking, he thinks of a King that had taken what he would, and he would kill him if he weren't already dead, Robin thinks of any man touching her, any man atop her, and he would slash their throats and watch them bleed like a slaughtered animal), what has happened to her, his fear has his anger boiling over, he cannot unleash his anger on Regina, he won't, would never dream of inflicting it on her when she is so obviously already fearful, John makes the perfect target.

"Robin," the large man barks, hand upraised, those wrinkles at the corners of his eyes look startlingly deep in the orange light.

"God damn it!" Robin shoots up from his seat, as he strides away his breath puffs out in the chilly air, he doesn't even know where he's headed, this forest a stranger to him.

John turns him around with a hand on his arm, grips him tightly, "You've awoken in a strange place," John says, forced calm in his voice, "You are upset, I understand."

Robin shakes him off, shaking his head, how can John understand, Robin doesn't even fully understand his feelings, his thoughts, knows only that Regina is pulling farther and farther away, is already halfway gone, all while he'd been ill, and it is his own fault for letting his guard down, for being shot straight through with that poisoned arrow. Maybe try harder next time, July had said.

"Papa?"

The voice of Roland knocks all the anger out of Robin, he deflates, turns to look at the boy standing in the dark.

John says nothing as Robin tromps away, Robin grabs up one of Roland's hand, the boy is in nightclothes under the cloak he wears, "I'm here, my boy," Robin assures.

Roland smiles, tucks himself against Robin's leg as they walk, "I missed you so much, Papa," the boy whispers, and then he's crying.

Robin kneels down, wraps the boy up in his arms, "hush, now," Robin soothes, and this is his fault too, for falling victim to that insidious poison. "I'm not going anywhere, Roland," he promises, the boy shakes his head violently.

"You better not," the boy has snot on him when he leans back, he is almost five now, time is passing now as it should, the boy is growing older every day, "Don't sleep like that again, Papa," the boy sounds stern, his little features hard in his own anger, "you made me sad, and you made _Regina_ sad," he says it so damningly, it cuts to Robin's quick as easily as any knife.

"I shan't do it again," Robin promises, he will never let this happen again, in his absence something awful had happened, and a wedge had pushed itself between him and Regina, once he draws her back he will never let the opportunity arise again.

Robin smiles at Roland, Roland smiles back, as if they've come to a contractual understanding, "Now, where is your bed, my boy," Robin stands, grabs onto Roland's hand once more, "it won't do for the bravest of our knights to be sleepy come morning."

Roland laughs; it's no longer the infantile giggle it had once been, Robin feels the loss keenly.

Regina is there, as Robin had thought she would be, cocooned in the bedding Roland had left behind when he went to search for his father in the dark, she's sleeping, curled as she often is, her knees drawn up, Robin watches from the other side of the tent flap, he holds the fabric in a fist, watches as Roland yawns and crawls in happily beside Regina, his affection free. "Aren't you gonna sleep, Papa?" Roland asks from beside her, he snuggles against her, confusion marking his face as he studies the way Robin holds himself tense and rigid at the tents entrance.

Regina had run from him, her walls are high, Robin wants not to destroy those walls, because that is surely the best way to destroy Regina, no, he wants to find sanctuary within them, sanctuary with her in her thoughts. Wrapping her up in his embrace when she does not want it, when she's more likely to flinch when she wakes then to smile, that is not the way to seek admittance behind her armor. Robin shakes his head at Roland, a smile thrown to the child, "The tent's a bit small, Roland. Keep her warm for me," Roland nods his head, taking Robin's instruction to heart as he wraps his arms around Regina's middle.

"I will," the boy promises as Robin lets the flap down.

* * *

Come breakfast Robin is wondering how little he must mean to her, if it is so easy for her to let him go. It's his anger distorting everything, she had said 'I love you' had slept in his arms, had welcomed him to her body, he knows how deeply she feels, but his anger is a twisted thing, anger at himself, and anger at her too, for pulling away when he could not follow, pulling away when he lay sick.

He can't stop himself from stomping over to her, a bowl of what passes for food in this camp rushed into her hands, hands so thin, so delicate, they bring to mind the hollow bones of a bird, she looks at the food like it's something she's never seen before, she looks at him and flinches from the hard look on his face.

"Speak to me," he begs, he demands, his anger turning to desperation when he looks at her beautiful face, "nothing in this world will stop me loving you," he says, loud enough for the people a few paces away to lift their eyebrows, "not even you."

Regina grabs at his elbow, draws him further from the fire, further from people, he moves his elbow away, steps closer to her, "Do not hide from me," he whispers, the bowl of soup trembles in her hand, her dark eyes, filled with pain, look up at him.

He can see the love in them, so why then, why the distance and the fear, why-

"Robin," she says, his name is torn from her, a ragged thing.

Robin lifts his hands to cup her face, his fingers digging into her hair, "You are my light and my life," he tells her, it is no caress, it is harsh, panted against her face, "whatever has happened, I will never leave you."

She is shaking.

He is too.

"I will never leave you, Regina."

"But you will," is her whispered reply.

Robin's hurt must show, she shakes her head, his hands move to her shoulders, hold her still, she looks ready to run. Regina is close to crying, that bowl of soup has steam wafting up in the air between them, Robin licks his lips before replying, forming his words carefully, "Tell me what you're feeling, please," he finally chooses to say.

Turmoil brews on her face, and when she once again tries to move them from the group Robin lets her, she passes the bowl of soup to Aniol as they pass him.

When they are alone but for the gnarled trees, minutes spent in silence, Regina turns and her walls have crashed to the ground, he had not meant to break them, yet still they lie in pieces and tears fall, she looks so shamed as she rubs them off her cheeks.

"I'm the Evil Queen," she says, it's nowhere near what he'd thought she would say.

Denial isn't what she's seeking, so though his first instinct is to tell her no, not anymore, he stays silent and lets her speak.

"Robin, I have killed, and I have tortured," tears still track down her lovely face, her too thin face with sharp edges where they should not be, she goes on and on speaking of her sins, of her evil, she looks more and more like a wounded animal as it goes on, he lets her speak and speak until her voice is raw.

And then he wraps her up in his arms, holds her tightly, "I have killed," he says to her, when she makes to reply he shushes her, "and I have tortured."

She rips out of his arms, the rustle of leaves loud under her boots as she stalks from him, "That's different," she spits, hugging herself.

"How?" he asks, "How is it any different, Regina?" this isn't the conversation they need to have now, but it's one that has been festering, he has felt these feelings from her since the moment their lips first met, even before that, the ridiculous thought that she does not deserve happiness, that she does not deserve him, but he is the thief and she the Queen, if anyone does not deserve the other it is surely Robin.

"Because I'm evil!" Regina screeches as she turns to face him, without her mask, without her walls, she looks startlingly young, she'd been married at sixteen, Robin thinks sometimes she is still that sixteen year old, confused and angry at the world, filled with sorrow that has no outlet.

"And if I told you I did not care?" she won't believe him if he were to say she is not evil, and she is not, she is not evil now, maybe long ago, but not now, he would not trust a person with evil eating them up to keep Roland safe, she fights her darkness every day, he sees her fighting to be a better person, a good person, perhaps one day he will say the words he wants, but not today, because all she would do is call him a fool, a love struck fool.

Confusion bleeds across her features, "What?" she stutters out.

He takes a step towards her, he will tell her one day that she is not evil, that she is good, pure and lovely, he will tell her in moments of happiness, moments of delight, his words catching her when she is most unguarded, she will believe it one day, but for now, "If I told you that I did not care?"

"How," she falters, steps back as he takes another step forward, "how can you possibly say that?" Regina asks.

"I say it because it's the truth," Robin watches her back hit a tree, she lets out a breath and then he is before her, crushing her against the bark, holding her in place with his own body, "nothing in this world will stop me loving you," he tells her again.

Her fingers claw into his shirt, he can feel her sharp nails, her gaze flick up and down his face, eyes narrowed, her mouth slightly open, when he leans in to kiss her his head tilts and so does hers, she sighs into his mouth, and when his tongue swipes across her bottom lip she opens for him further. Robin groans at the feel of her, he pushes her further into the tree, her body is all angles where it should be curves, she'd never been plump but she had been soft, it's all bones now, it does not stop him from running his hands up and down her sides.

When he pulls away she is breathing heavy, her eyes closed, Regina's head thumps back against the tree, "I love you," he says again, waits for her to respond, relief washes over him when she does.

"As I love you," she cries, a tear leaks out of her eye, face twisted like she's in pain at the words.

"What happened to you?" Robin asks, this conversation was all about driving him away, but that's not something she'll ever succeed in doing, not when she still loves him, not when he can see the love she holds for him.

Her eyes remain closed, her body tightly pressed between Robin and the tree, her hands on his shoulders, on his neck.

"Regina, please," she has the power to make him beg, he's a proud man, but he begs.

"I'm pregnant," she says, a whisper, fearful, filled with sorrow, more tears spill from her.

Robin, shocked for certain, but he'd heard her clearly and he won't make her repeat it, not when those two words have left her so devastated, devastated, like she has announced a death sentence, like she has announced some awful thing. His hands tighten on her though, a vision of a little girl flashes through his mind, floats like a bright colored butterfly over his consciousness and a smile grows without any thought, pregnant he thinks.

And then he catches sight of the yellow bruising on her face, something awful runs through him, "Tell me the child is mine, tell me the child is conceived of our love and not from an attack on you," it's real fear that has his heart beating, pulse jumping under the fingers she has curled against his neck, his awful imaginings come to him, he would tear the world asunder to claim revenge if any man held her down, if any man touched her.

"Regina," he says, and she flinches, more tears fall from her dark lashes.

"Yours," she answers, "yours, Robin," her eyes still closed, her refusal to look at him has him pressing against her harder, relief spreads through him, his forehead lands on hers, they share air between them, her hair still smells of some vanilla smell under the scent of moist wet leaves and campfire smoke.

But her devastation doesn't lessen, he's not a fool and he remembers well when she'd sat before him and told him of the children she almost had, gone from her before she ever really had them.

"I will not lie to you, Regina, the thought of a baby shared between us has me happy beyond words," Robin's face contorts looking at her; he closes his own eyes, his forehead still against hers. "Speak to me, please, do not hide from me."

She lets out a broken breath, it blows across the space between them and hits Robin's jaw, "It won't live," she whispers.

"You don't know that," he tries.

"I do," Regina answers, voice steely and so, _so_ filled with sorrow.

The wind shrieks through the branches above them, it's a cold draft that hits them, "If it does not live, then it does not live," Robin tells her, his eyes still closed, she had not called the child a baby, had said 'it', and so Robin does as well.

"Don't dare tell me it won't rip you apart," Regina says, sorrow makes room for outrage, "that when it passes you won't look at me-" her words cut off, she cuts them off, a tremor runs through her, Robin doesn't remove his weight and she stays between him and the tree.

"I will only ever look at you as I have always done," Robin says, straining his forehead further against hers, bending her head back, Robin's breath leaving him harshly. Her having so little faith in him, in their love, has him desperately angry, but it is not her fault, he restrains himself from lashing out at her, she is already hurt.

"Don't lie to me," she whispers. How can she think so little of him? She shudders again, "Don't say things you don't mean, after it's gone you'll look at me and think about how I killed it, how it's my fault, don't pretend you won't car-"

He slams his lips to hers again, to shut her up, to have her stop the flow of her awful words, he devours her, pours his love to her, his anger mixes in and she whimpers when he bites down on her bottom lip, squirming against him and the tree, she's trying to free herself and when he realizes he steps back away from her.

"How can you think those things of me?" Robin barks, it's a yell through the cold air, he walks five paces away from her, "You think so little of me," he says to the forest, because he can't turn to look at her, she's wounded him deeply, how can she not understand him, he has said it to her, he means what he says and he loves her, it's that love that has him turn to see her when she cries a huge sob.

A hand is over her mouth, pressed tightly against her lips, she's sobbing, "You'd hate me," she says, "How couldn't you, Robin? It will die because I'm it's mother! You'd hate me!"

She hates herself already, Robin thinks but will not say, can't bear to think of the hate he sees sometimes in her eyes when Robin catches her studying her reflection in a mirror, "I could never hate you, Regina," Robin says, rubbing his face with his hands, "If it does not live it is not your fault, it's-"

Regina shakes her head wildly and flings herself away from him when he approaches, "Of course it's my fault!" she screeches.

He doesn't know what to say to her, he wants her healthy and whole, he wants her happy, but she's made of pain, layers and layers of it, he doesn't know what words will quiet her fears, "Regina," he says her name, and when he once again makes to hold her she falls against his chest willingly, shuddering, shaking, grappling at him to bring him closer, Robin sinks his hands into her hair, "I love you, I cannot say it more plainly. I will not hate you, I never could."

They stand in an embrace until her breath evens out, when she calms she draws back and looks embarrassed, ashamed as Robin raises his hands to swipe the tear tracks from her cheeks.

"I'm starved, let's head back," Robin says, nothing is really resolved, he feels defeated knowing she still thinks the things she does, terrible things, but he will make her eat a bowl of soup for breakfast, he will put fat back onto her bones.

He knows in his heart the child will live, Robin will fatten Regina up, and she will give him a baby girl in return. Robin sees it all laid out before him, he will not speak of this future with Regina, she is just as certain the pregnancy will end in another lost baby, he will not speak of hope to her, of happiness, but she will have both with him, whether she realizes it or not.

* * *

His Merry Men know, this is the truth they could not tell him, they, as a group it seems, look from Regina, so obviously recently crying, to Robin who wears his emotions on his sleeve, his rage and his sadness, his hope too, broiling there, John lays a hand on Robin's shoulder when Regina is called away. She had eaten only half a portion.

"Congratulations," John says, his smile is a small thing, an unsure thing.

Robin's grins back, the baby will live, a baby girl with more uncles then she will know what to do with.

* * *

That night Regina lays curled against him, her head on his shoulder, Robin tells her sleeping form all the things he could not say to her when he'd had her pinned to the tree.

He speaks of the future.

Of their baby girl.

Robin tells her how she is not evil.

Nothing changes about her sleeping form, she cannot hear him, if she could she would have pulled away, she stays sleeping and Robin feels sorrow and rage so intensely he thinks he will snap from it.

* * *

Roland has a new best friend, the only best friend he has ever had, he'd been all his life in the camp of the Merry Men, seeing him now surrounded by children has something warm running through Robin's chest.

The best friends name is Liam, Robin soon learns that Liam is the reason why the Dark One can't find the camp.

"His magic is in shadows," Regina explained, at Robin's furrowed brow Regina had smiled, a half hearted thing, she doesn't smile the huge bright smile anymore, not even for Arthur who says joke after joke for Regina's benefit. Not even for Roland, who has his hand on her stomach so often, hand resting over the still frighteningly thin spot where a baby is growing, Robin's baby.

The child, Liam, stood with the dawn every morning and seemed to talk to the sun like an old friend, a whispered conference that lasted up to twenty minutes, and always ended with a huge sweeping arc of inky blackness spilling from the child, churning over the camp and a little beyond it's edges before fading, the light of the sun turned bluer then it should be.

They are hiding, Robin understands, and doing it well.

* * *

In her too big clothing she looks small, without them she looks even smaller.

Worry gnaws on him, even as Regina kisses him, has him sit on the bedding of the tent they share, kissing him with her tongue down his throat, he groans, hands clamped at her protruding hip bones.

For all the weight she has lost though, Robin can't help but place his hand upon her belly, as Roland is always doing, it's firm under his hand, firm with the life growing inside, the life Regina refuses to talk about, there's a tiny curve there, tiny, he might be imagining it, but he runs his hand over it softly as Regina grinds her dripping cunt against his muscled thigh.

"You're beautiful," he says, Regina shakes her head as if to shake his voice away, grabs at his hand, fervently working herself against him, she moves his hand off her belly, lifts it to her breast instead and Robin takes the instruction further and wraps his lips around nipple.

She cries out, stilling against his thigh, he instantly tears his mouth away.

"What?" he asks, "What is it?" his hands leave her.

"They're sensitive," she gasps, Regina leans closer to him, hands in his hair and she draws him back, moaning when he takes the already hardened peak between his lips, when he nips at it she nearly screams.

Robin has a hand pumping himself up and down, spreading the pre-cum to lubricate his movements, he chuckles against her breast at her cry, a wanton thing as he juggles her, wrestling her closer before rolling her under him.

Pregnancy had made Marian insatiable, Robin thinks Regina will be the same as she opens her legs for him, moaning though he is not even touching her anywhere that warrants it, when he guides himself inside of her, she's dripping wet and deliciously tight around his shaft, he enters her slowly, inch by inch and her heels kick at the blankets, nails marring his shoulders as she gasps and cries out, it rings in Robin's ear as he's finally all in, she still feels as good as she ever had, under him and around him.

Her voice, her absolute abandon as she moans and screams, the way she writhes and rolls her hips up, it's so erotic Robin finds himself close to the edge after only a few thrusts.

In and out of her, it has him gasping, and when she tightens her muscles around him, an arrogant grin on her lips, he chokes on a growl.

"You know what you do to me?" he groans, thrusting faster, harder.

"Tell me," is her breathless answer, gripping her own breasts in her hands, pinching at her nipples with her head thrown back, the thought of watching her pleasuring herself has Robin's heart pounding, he'll have to remember the thought for later. Robin grabs at her ankles on either side of him, he pulls them up to his shoulders, the legs straight, he's effectively bending her in half, he kisses the inside of her right calf as it trembles next to his face, he has no answer for her, not that she would hear him as he thrusts harder, faster against her, she slides up the blankets with every thrust, forcing him to pull her back by the grip he's got on her shoulders, the motion has him so deep he fears he may be hurting her, but she tells him 'more, please,' crying out.

She screams out her orgasm, it rips through her, leaves her shaking, moaning as Robin still thrusts, until he spills himself as deep inside her as he can get.

* * *

Some of the camp has people they left behind, groups of twos and threes leave, leave with the knowledge that they will not be able to find the way back, most of the camp wants to stay hidden.

The boy Liam wakes with the sun each morning without fail, wakes to speak to his old friend the sun, to barter for another day spent cloaked in shadow, Roland starts to wake with him.

Regina seems content to wait, to hide, what are her thoughts, Robin doesn't know, when he asks she gazes at him intently, cups his cheek, "Rumpelstiltskin was meant to kill you," she says, and explains the rest of the tale, the things she had left out at the first telling.

How the Dark One had ripped out her heart.

Robin tugs her to him at that, frantic hands landing over where her heart beats a solid rhythm against his palm.

"I got it back," she murmurs, almost sounding amused.

* * *

The Merry Men don't say it is because of Regina, or the unborn child that grows inside of her, but it's because of Regina and the unborn child that grows inside of her.

None of the men are cowardly, none of them are built to hide like a scared beast in its warren, but Robin asks if they wish to stay or go, because they are his men, his brothers, his Merry band of thieves, Arthur and George look over Robin's shoulder, to where Robin knows Regina stands.

Not one man gives any inkling of wanting to leave the safety of this hidden camp, not one man, Robin's face twists up looking at them.

"Thank you," he tells them.

Aniol pushes against Robin's chest, an open palm that knocks Robin back, "Of course," he rumbles and walks past Robin, walks past him to help Regina as she struggles to lift a huge pot that is as tall as her knees and filled with broth.

It's only then, watching her as she fails to lift the weight of the pot, that Robin realizes he has not seen her do magic since he's woken.

* * *

A scream tears through the camp.

Robin races to it's source, to a little old woman who continually turns pine cones into fresh ripe fruit, a gift that has everyone enjoying a treat at least once a day, she's taken special care to make a rosy and gleaming red apple for Regina everyday, even goes as far as to lay her wrinkled old hands, everyone in the camp knows, knows not to speak of it too, the old woman rests her hand on the slowly growing curve of Regina's belly, the only one besides Roland and Robin to even attempt it.

The little old woman has a hand pointed up at the sky now, one crooked finger upraised at a streak of green that heads straight for them, faster then any bird Robin has seen.

It's a green clad fairy, he sees right before she falls to the ground in the middle of the sparse tents, she impacts the dirt so hard it flies in a dust cloud before settling.

* * *

**Authors note, hey hey, I've returned from my adventure! had tons of fun, went gambling for the first time ever and lost it all! haha, yeah, first and last time I think. anyway have some angsty angst.**

**EDIT ha so alright I edited it out but there was a spell she did before Robin says huh I've not seen her do magic, I went back and cut the spell out hoping no one would see but people saw! but yeah, no no magic for Regina.**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	40. Chapter 40

Roland has his hand on her whenever he is close, little hand over Regina's belly, over the gently, so gentle, curve there, Regina has never showed so early.

She'll ask him today, ask him what he sees, what he did. Regina's hope is dead, she repeats it, her hope is dead, and in any case _it_ is making her life hell, has her sick and tired, her breasts sore, _it_ has her weeping uncontrollably at a drop of a hat, but something undeniable is slithering up into her heart, something entirely capable of breaking her to pieces. Hope (this land is where hope comes to die though; she reminds herself, there is no hope here.)

But Roland kisses her cheek and scampers off with Liam, Regina watches him go, questions still unasked, because she is afraid, terribly afraid of what answers he could give.

A scream flies through the camp, a strangled scream; Regina's head shoots up, George next to her instantly drops his breakfast, standing from his seat, he motions for her to stay and looks surprised when Regina does nothing of the sort. Regina runs off, hand curling as if to wield a flame as she races between tents and people, George close behind, headed towards the sound, her hand curls as if to summon a flame, the flame doesn't come.

Regina stops, her feet skid to a stop in the dirt at the sight of Tinkerbelle, George thumps into her back, knocking her forwards three steps before his arm snatches at her and saves her from a face planting fall. But Regina has attention only for the fairy, Tinkerbelle is dusting herself off, that pretty smile on her lips as she speaks to Robin, Robin who looks wary.

The lion tattoo is bare on Robin's arm, his sleeves rolled up and Regina can see the moment Tinkerbelle looks and recognizes the mark. Tinkerbelle has her sharp eyes on that tattoo now, and she has quick hands out and turning Robin's arm for her to see more of it.

The fairy's hand on the inked skin has Regina uneasy, she doesn't know why, as if showing Tinkerbelle is some turning point, the point of no return, though Robin and Regina love each other, have said so, he has said he will never leave her, it's Tink's hand on the roaring lion that has it real and solid in Regina's mind, it had taken Regina more than three decades, but she is with the man with the lion tattoo as she should have had the strength to do then. Soul mates, Regina thinks, the hand that is not looking to wield fire is coming up to Regina's belly, hovering there in the air, she can't make herself touch it, the thing that is barely there, it doesn't show through the three layers Regina wears to stay warm in the morning damp.

"Regina!" the fairy calls and steps around Robin, letting his arm drop as she moves from him.

Tinkerbell has one of those smiles on her face, a clear and happy smile, brightening her whole countenance.

Regina's hands, one still in that fireless curl, the other hovering still at her waist, she drops them both quickly down to her sides, Tinkerbelle should not be here, she should not have been able to find this place, nor see it from the air.

Tinkerbelle comes and grips Regina's shoulders, Regina has to force herself to stay, to not step away, Roland and Robin touch her freely, the Merry Men are not shy in offering hands up, Granny's soft and gruff touches are increasingly addictive, but touching and being touched in return is something Regina is still becoming reacquainted with, Storybrooke had seen very few people touching her, besides Graham and Henry there really was no one, and Graham only did enough to get them both grunting out an orgasm, his hands locked to her hips or to her waist, wrapped sometimes around her neck as he emptied himself inside her, before he left her sore and satisfied but terribly lonely in her bed, and Henry had been pulling away since his eighth birthday.

Tinkerbelle's hands squeeze, her eyes crinkling, practically vibrating with pleasure, "You're here! Regina, thank goodness." But Tink's eyes turn back to Robin, her eyebrows rising, her mouth opening to say more, to speak of Robin and soul mates, there's a 'told ya so' look to the fairy.

"How did you find us?" Regina blurts, because she'd seen Liam do his magic this morning, his magic is shadows, only one sorcerer in thirteen hundred can play in shadows, a skill not even the Dark One can see through, she'd seen Liam raise the shadow just this morning, can even now look and see the blue tint left behind by his morning talk with the rising sun.

Tinkerbelle's lips purse, her hands tighten on Regina's shoulders before she lets go, the topic of tattoos and soul mates pushed aside grudgingly, "Snow gave me this," Tink answers, raising her arm, a long and thick red ribbon wrapped around and around her thin wrist, the glint of gold thread shining in the early sun.

Regina takes a step back, and another, only stops when she encounters George's hand on her back.

"_Snow_ gave that to you?" Regina asks, she's clamped down her voice, her features, Robin takes a step towards her.

Tink looks concerned, but she's scales underneath, soft scales, and Blue reeks of still water and decay, Regina cannot trust the sprites, not even Tinkerbelle.

"Yes," Tink says, she's already plucking at the knot that holds the ribbon in place, looking from Regina's face and back down to her wrist, "she thought it would lead me to you, but she wasn't sure."

Regina swallows, steps forward when Tink's dainty fingers pull ineffectually against the ribbon, Regina's motions are quick, angry swipes as she deftly unties the thing, pulling it away savagely before holding it in her white knuckled fist.

"Do you know what this is?" Regina asks, holding her fist up between them, the ends of the ribbon falling from her grip, blowing gently in a cold breeze, Robin is at her side now, his hand on her back, George's hand slipping away.

The fairy shrugs, her eyes go from the ribbon to Regina, over to Robin, and then back to the ribbon, clearly confused, Regina sighs out a vicious breath of air, what would a fairy know of such human things as marriage Bonders. Blood magic that is little more than a tracking spell, called a fancy name, marriage Bonder, a tracking spell to keep track of the whereabouts of a young and pretty wife, it's the marriage ribbon that tied Leopold and her together, she recognizes it from long years gone. Blood magic is strong, strong enough to find her through the shadow. Leopold had been a jealous man, accusing Regina of all manner of things debauch and untoward with every man she encountered, two months after their wedding Leopold told his young and pretty wife that she was _his _alone to touch, only his, he had held her down when she fought against his bruising grip and tied the ribbon about her throat, so tightly it dug in her skin, cut off her air to the point of dizziness, it had been white before the blood stained it and magic preserved the bright blood on it forever. He knew where she was ever after if he wished, but he went from jealous rage to absolute neglect often, Regina had not seen the ribbon for years before Leopold's death, had assumed the magic had faded.

"Regina," Robin calls her name, steady and soothing, her name from his lips has her turning to look at him. He raises a hand to her fist, gently lowers it, the fairy might not know the sight of a Bonder, but Robin does, his lips curl in distaste of it, his eyes scream an apology for faults that are nowhere near his.

"I'm sorry," Tinkerbelle says, the easy apology of someone who doesn't really know what they have done, Tinkerbelle has her wings behind her, gossamer things, they flutter behind her form, hitch in nerves as she plows through the fraught situation at hand, "please, Regina we need your help."

"We?" Regina asks, turns away from Robin and his pity, even from him she cannot abide it, "Who is we?"

"Snow and David," Tink answers, "they have a camp not a five day trek from here, we need your help."

Regina snorts, "With what? Defeating the Wicked bitch?" Regina gestures out to the ramshackle camp she's perfectly content to live in, perfectly content to hide in, safe with Robin and Roland, in her heart she is a fighter, and shame _does_ bleed through her at hiding like a scared little girl, but she would stay here forever if it meant safety for the sweet boy and his father. "Me and mine are perfectly well," because they are hers, Roland is hers, Robin is hers, even the Merry Men she feels some claim too, she can be as territorial as Leopold had ever been, just as determined to keep what is hers close to her chest.

"You can't mean that!" Tink cries, indignation clinging to her tone, her mouth opened, her eyes disappointed, as if she has any right to be disappointed in Regina. "Snow needs you," Tink says it like it means something (and it does, Snow's name bringing a pang of something painful in Regina's gut), "she's barely pregnant and has to waddle everywhere already!"

So Snow is fat then, can only possibly be a month or two ahead of Regina and is already fat, healthy with her growing baby, she's probably glowing too, Regina feels that pang again, some mix of happiness for Snow and awful, bitter jealousy, as if Snow has stolen from her, stolen her life like she had a lifetime ago when she decided Regina would make a fine mother.

"She could be the size of a whale and it would make me no less inclined to aid her," Regina seethes, her haunches up, defensive in the face of Tink's blatant displeasure and confusion, looking at Regina like Regina is mad.

Regina spins away from the sprite, her fist still around the Bonder in her grasp.

* * *

Adrienne can sit up on her own now.

Regina delves deep into the rows of tents, encounters Adrienne's and decides to duck inside before the thought is even fully in her head.

She enters to the sight of the woman sitting up on her own.

There's little else the woman can do, Regina knows, but Regina feels a swell of something warm and…nice, inside her somewhere, her heart maybe, when a smirk of triumph is seen on Adrienne's face as she sits without assistance.

"May I?" Regina asks, half in the tent, asking admittance.

The woman nods her head, her flinty eyes looking Regina up and down as Regina enters, tucking her knees under her to sit beside the bedroll Adrienne rests upon. Adrienne has eyes on the Bonder, frowning and turning her eyes up, but she does not ask a single thing as Regina looks right back and tucks the ribbon into the inside pocket of her vest.

"Strong enough to sit all on my own," Adrienne says, mockery at herself.

"Very good, dear," Regina says, and it is very good, even still Adrienne is a mess of a person, cut and beaten, weeks gone by she still looks damaged beyond repair, but she is healing.

Regina bites back a quip, Adrienne has proven a terrible audience for Regina's sharp wit, she always looks and looks on with those flinty eyes, studying as if she can read some unspoken thing under Regina's caustic words.

"It's better," Adrienne admits, bitterness thick in her voice, when her children are near Adrienne seems almost a different person, she's warm with her children, and only with her children, "still need help to get to the hole in the ground we call a toilet," Adrienne grumbles.

Regina inclines her head, can't dispute it, the woman's fight back to health will be a long one even still, would have been an impossible one without magic.

"We have our next milestone then," Regina says, lip turned up, Adrienne rolls her eyes sharply, grabs at a spoon in an empty bowl beside her and tries to throw it at Regina, who is caught between wry amusement and frank disbelief. A _spoon_, Adrienne was going to throw a _spoon_ with crusted old soup caked on it at the Evil Queen, the spoon lands halfway between them, the throw itself leaves Adrienne with a hand against her ribs, grimacing and fighting for breath.

"Mom," July cries as she runs to her mother's side, she must have been watching through the slit in the entrance, she rushes forward and only stops before crashing into Adrienne when Regina flings out her arm.

"She's alright, dear," Regina sooths, July squirms, restless limbs reaching under Regina's arm to grip at Adrienne's leg, "Give her a moment."

Adrienne smiles through pain, July is almost too old to fool with fake smiles, but not yet, relief spreads on the little girls face as Regina lowers her restraining arm.

"A lesson for you, July," Regina says, Adrienne meets her eyes over July's fiery red hair as she hugs her daughter close, "cutlery makes a poor projectile," Regina snides, Adrienne rolls her eyes.

Regina has July tell Adrienne of all she has learned, has her conjure both water and flame for her mothers benefit, Adrienne's pride shines.

The Bonder seems to burn through Regina's layer of clothes, burns her from where she has tucked it out of sight, unfortunately not out of mind though, a nuisance that she can't escape, a terrible reminder of a life she wants never to think of, but is all the same trapped thinking of more and more often as _it_ grows in her belly, dredging up pain and a deep fear of inadequacy. Regina smiles when she's supposed to, until she leaves Adrienne as June joins her mother and sister, four people is too many for a tent this size, Regina leaves them all together, Adrienne and her girls, leaves and tries to stop imagining what it would be like to have a girl of her own.

* * *

"Regina," he's been waiting all day to speak to her, she's seen him looking at her, had seen him talking and talking to Tinkerbelle too, but he's waited till she's half asleep in his arms. "The King was not an honorable man," he tells her.

She says nothing, tucks tighter against him, the Bonder is still in her vest where she dropped it by the bedding, the red of her blood still bright from decades ago, "He was my husband," Regina says, the camp is never quiet, the crackling of fires can be heard, the murmuring of people walking, the leaves crinkling under the feet of the patrols the Merry Men take in shifts, she thinks maybe Robin has not heard her.

His hand runs up her spine under the blankets that fall heavy and warm on top of both of them, his callouses catching on the shirt she wears to sleep in. He takes a deep breath, he's tense as he tugs her even closer, "Do you think of him still as your husband?"

"He's dead," she says.

"That is no answer," Robin whispers into her hair, his other hand on her now, both square on her back, pulling her up half on top of him, chest to chest with him, the swell of her tiny belly curving against his lean abdomen, he's trying to have Regina look into his eyes, but she can't. Yes, of course she still thinks of him as her husband, because he had been, the answer rings out with no words uttered as she turns her face from Robin, she had been a girl, and the King had been her husband, for years he was her husband, there is no simply putting him nor the title away, even at the expense of Robin's feelings.

Regina refuses to lie to Robin, perhaps leave out parts of the truth, but not lie.

"Did you," Robin swallows, let's Regina drop her head down to his shoulder, "did you love him?" he asks.

"No," Regina answers, Robin tense muscles relax only slightly, "I don't think I could have loved him, even if he had shown love to me."

"He never showed you affection, never showed you love?"

The answer of 'no' doesn't even need saying, "When I was first pregnant he looked so happy," Regina remembers, the bump between them seems ten times bigger at her words, "he told me that's all he wanted, a strong son and if I gave it to him we would both be so happy."

"You lost the pregnancy," Robin says, a fact he already knows.

"He was so angry with me," Regina burrows further into Robin's shoulder, he lands a hand on the back of her neck, fingers threaded through her hair, kissing her temple.

"I love you," Robin says, his words spilling over her, a balm, his magic spreading without thought from his hands and up into every part of her, from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, "I love you so much I could not live without you," his words shake with intensity, his grip on her harder than it has been since he's learned she was carrying his child, he's grown hesitant in touching her, afraid to grip her too tight. "The King was a fool, a dishonorable letch who burns behind the deathgate for what he did to you, do you understand me?"

She nods against his shoulder because it's what he wants, what he expects.

Strong hands on her jaw has her head turning up to look at him, he wears a hard frown, his eyes angry, he looks at her as if he knows she does not believe him and it's breaking his heart. "You never deserved that fate, Regina."

Regina's chin trembles, Robin has not asked after her marriage with the King in their time together, nor has she felt like sharing, but he's not ignorant, pretty girls in this land are just as much a trophy as in any other, young Queens are not left untouched by their husbands.

Robin says the King deserves hell for what he'd done.

"I love you," Robin repeats, a mantra he's taken to saying often, whether they are alone or not, whispered hot in her ear as if to remind her, as if she can forget, "I am not him, I would rather die than treat you as he did."

She wants to believe him, (she does, she does, reluctantly she does, he could break her because she believes him) but words are words and as fleeting as the breath they come into the world with.

* * *

Tinkerbelle tries again to speak to Regina the next day, gets angry when Regina stone walls her.

* * *

The next day Tinkerbelle speaks to Robin as he stands right next to Regina, weedles at him, calls upon his status of 'good' to sway him to join her in badgering Regina's help reluctantly from her.

Robin shuts her down thoroughly, leaving the sprite's brow scrunched and her feet stamping as she walks away.

* * *

Regina does not tell the fairy that her help would mean little any way, her magic won't come, but Regina fears the _help_ David and Snow call for is Regina sacrificing her life to the witch.

But the fairy tries and tries.

* * *

Regina puts the book in her grasp down on a rock, a leaf her bookmark as she stands, ignores Aniol who sits beside her, he has his music box in his hands, watching without fear of judgment as the tiny glass dancer spins and spins, tinkling little tune repeating as he turns the crank time after time.

"Make your baby strong," he had said as he sat beside her, Regina had wanted to run, had wanted to do a hundred things besides sit side by side with the dark haired man and listen to him tell her the twisted tale of the music box, how its song chose a child and cradled them, helped them grow. He'd been the chosen, and now it was time for another. There is no magic on the thing, Regina can't see any, but Aniol holds it in reverence, speaks of all the strength the song gives.

When he asks her please to accept the gift, Regina feels no other choice but to nod, telling Robin the truth of it, that the bab- _it_ won't live, that is one thing, it's entirely another to tell Aniol the painful truth of it, so she doesn't. Regina had watched in silence as he'd lifted the carved lid gently, that tiny gleaming dancer spinning and spinning, there is no magic there. After a time Regina had returned to her book, left Aniol to his ritual, he'd kept playing the song over and over, even after he'd nodded forcefully, smile on his mouth, "Done," he'd said and cranked the song into life again.

Aniol calls her name as she takes hurried steps away, her hand held over her mouth, the other hovering over her stomach, unwilling to encounter the curve there.

_It_ already has Regina sick every midmorning, whatever small amount of food she'd forced herself to choke down gone in minutes.

Leopold's children had quickened within her with nary a single sign of nausea, but Robin's bab-

Regina has a hand clamped over her lips, it's not an odd sight to the Merry Men, they wear concern on their faces still though, look to each other, it's the last she sees before she's around the back of her tent and letting all that she had been holding in her mouth out in a huge retch. Vomit burns up her nose as she's down on her knees, taking a deep breath in, letting it out, she stays down, hands in the dirt, breathing in then out, her eyes slammed shut, the muscles still constricting in her, she's not done, when the urge comes again to retch it's accompanied with hot tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes, slinking down her cheeks and into the loose bits of hair that have escaped her braid.

The hands that land on her back are warm, warm and strength flows from him, Robin has his hands rubbing at her back, he snatches up her hair, and does not bat an eye at the stench nor the sight of the second coming of breakfast

"It's alright," he soothes.

The only response she can give is spitting some of the sick from her mouth, it's not alright at all, she thinks. Robin has tried to comfort her, makes it a point to go to her, hold her hair, rub her back. She's often reassured by his presence, by his steady hands and his accented voice, because _this_ is painful and shaming, Queen and Mayor on her hands and knees in the dirt, vomiting up gruel, enduring all of it, and for what?

_For what?_

Regina pushes him off her, her stomach is calming, those constricting muscles relaxing, she wipes at tears in her eyes and pushes him away, "This is your fault," she spits as she turns to look at him, it's his fault for touching her, for loving her, (but it's her fault in the end, all her fault, Regina had let him in, in her heart and in her arms, into her body, the fault is hers, but she can't be any _more_ angry at herself, she's overflowing with rage, he'll share in it) she has nothing to wipe the sick off her face with, nothing but the too long sleeve of her shirt, her hand hovers over her chin, undecided whether to simply be gone with all her dignity and use it to try and clean off her shame.

He smiles at her, a god awful grin from where'd he'd landed on his knee half a step away from her, "I should hope it is," Robin chuckles, that awful grin, Regina has never before felt the want to strike him, not like this, she'd wanted that grin gone before, had used her body and her mouth to achieve it, but the urge to slap it off itches at her fingers.

A bark of frustration tears its way out of Regina, frustration and shame and pain (the urge to hit him as her frightened), it's all torn from her, her eyes drilling into Robin, her hands up like claws in the air between them.

It's enough to drive the grin from his face, his heavy lidded gaze filling with concern, that is how he regards her now, worried, concerned, every touch as gentle as he can make it, his promise to never be like the King has only seen more hesitance in his touches, the only times she's able to put any heat in him is when she's naked and panting, begging for it, and even then he looks guilty afterward, guilty for touching her, guilty for fucking her and liking the way he makes her scream, Robin regards her now like she is the fragile glass figurine that dances endlessly inside Aniol's silly music box, made of glass and ready to shatter at any moment, that's how Robin sees her.

It infuriates her to no end.

He scoots on his knees forward with hands upraised, as if to cup her face, but she's still got sick on her and she doesn't want those gentle hands on her anyway, she turns away from him, "Don't," she says, but she wants his touch very much, his comfort and his love, but she is not some broken thing, she is not some fragile thing that needs tender care, the day he'd woke and pinned her to the tree, the day she'd admitted _out loud_ for the first time that she was carrying a child, his child, that was the last time he'd held her like, like, Regina can't even describe it, it was the last time he held her like she was his lifeline, his one port in a storm, like he would crush her to him come hell or high water, as if daring god, or anyone, to try and separate them.

The love remains, but the passion replaced with hesitance, a restraint that has her suddenly aware of how physical their relationship had been, it had been tense and filled with need and desperate wanting, she can see the love that shines in his eyes, but _it_ has ruined all else, _it_ has her sick and pissed off, _it _has Robin with hand's on her belly at every opportunity, that silly hopeful expression on his face, they have not spoken of _it_, he has not accepted the coming fate of _it_, Robin holds onto his hope, (and when he wears his hope on his face she can feel hers growing too, growing and it will break her when her hope dies with the child) his silly boundless hope, as if believing in a thing will make it true. His hope will turn to ashes in his mouth, his love for her soured because he let hope in his heart, because he looked at her and imaged a babe nursing at her breast.

He promised never to be like the King, but how can he love her when _it_ dies in her womb, Regina's thoughts always come back here, back to this thought, it's a hurdle she can't jump over.

"Regina, I'm sorry," he apologizes, he does not touch her, but he hovers as she climbs to her feet, her fingers still uncertaintly over her chin, "I shouldn't have laughed, I am sorry," he repeats.

_It_ has her emotions on high, has her weeping one moment and seething the next. That's exactly what happens now, the urge to cry sweeps over her. She muscles it back, her back tight, her shoulders tense, but even with all of her control tears slip out.

He's going to break her, is so careful to be so gentle and in the end will break her all the same, it feels like he is slipping through her fingers, like grains of sand slipping slowly free from her grasp. She turns to him, she needs him, needs him like she needs air to breath, and it will be her undoing, when _it_ passes and his hope is extinguished, she doesn't even think she'll blame him, not when it's all her own fault, she doesn't think she'll blame him when he realizes his mistake in loving her, when he realizes and, and…but he had said he would never leave her.

Regina turns to him, nods her head and that's all he needs before he's in her space, a cloth from his pocket wiping at her face, wiping snot and vomit from her nose, one hand at the back of her head, the other cleaning her up, more tears fall.

"I'm sorry," Regina whispers, her eyes closed.

"I shouldn't have laughed," Robin repeats, a canteen is on his hip, he soaks the cloth before offering the water to her to wash the taste from her mouth, and when her face is clean he kisses her cheek, a close mouthed peck that feels lacking, Regina isn't aware of the scowl on her face as she grabs at his shirt front, nails digging as she drags him back again, dragging those lips to hers, she needs passion, heat from him.

Hands dig at her hips, bruising grip as she ravishes his mouth, standing on tip toes to do so, she sucks at his tongue, the groan he lets out has her imagining a time not that long ago, when it had been him holding her head in place, when it had been him that drew her out with hard kisses and questing hands.

Regina wants it back.

She steps forward, her body flush with his, lifting her leg to rub her thigh against him, and he groans deep in his chest, his hands running to her back, one hand with a handful of her hair, the other low on her back.

When she untucks his shirt and runs her hands up and down his sides, across his hard back, she's thinking of running her hand under the band of his trousers, of taking his shaft in her hand, working him until he's long and hard and panting, growling her name, completely at her mercy, at just the touch of her fingers wrapping around him.

The clearing of an uncomfortable throat has Regina and Robin stepping apart, both panting, Robin frowning as their eyes turn to find Ruby with wide eyes that pointedly look elsewhere.

"What do you want?" Regina snaps, fingers running over her hair to smooth it, Robin's hands had been in it, tugging on it to pull her mouth closer, and Ruby had ruined it.

The young wolf wears half a shrug, turns her eyes back down, a blush on her cheeks, Regina remembers when this girl wore shorts so short her ass cheeks hung out, Regina remembers clearly in the early ninties when she had walked into the laundry room of the diner to try and get ketchup out of her blouse before it could stain, had walked into the laundry room and found Ruby with a dick in her mouth, the girl had winked, the appendage popping out, Ruby had winked and licked the erection in her hand from base to tip before deep throating. It had been Regina blushing at the time.

"Granny needs some help," Ruby says, that ridiculous blush still on her cheeks, as if her arrival back here has erased twenty eight years of being a walking wet dream, has erased twenty eight years of being blatantly sexual, unashamed, and loving every minute of it.

"Is she alright?" Robin asks, hand coming to the small of Regina's back.

Ruby moves on the balls of her feet, that half shrug bobbing up and down, "Yeah, she's fine, I mean she's not dying or anything but,"

"Is she hurt?" Regina asks, walks ahead of Robin's steadying hand, walks away with only a pat of her hand against his as her goodbye.

"No, I don't think it's hurting her," Ruby follows Regina, following along half a step behind, her head swiveling back and forth between Robin being left and Regina stomping away from him. "So, I didn't mean to interrupt anything-"

"Yet you did," Regina bites out, Ruby sighs.

Ruby looks ready to smack Regina to the ground before Regina turns away, the girl has often and loudly declared her intention to leave this hide away and find Snow White, her cries only growing at Tink's arrival, yet here she remains, Regina hasn't cared enough to try and explore the girls mind. It's to do with Granny, who has just as loudly and just as often declared her old bones tired and deserving of an earned rest. Both grandmother and granddaughter always seem to have eyes on Regina when they declare their opposing intentions, and even now Ruby glares bitterly at Regina's back, Regina can feel it there, fierce and hot, burning between her shoulder blades.

It's in silence that they walk to Granny's tent, a patchwork affair that looks as knickkacky as a hand knitted tea cozy.

A gasp escapes Regina's mouth, a hand over her belly in her surprise, held there over that curve she pretends is not growing, held there for two seconds before she drops it back down, "What happened?" Regina asks, falling to Granny's side, knees sinking into the soft blanket that Granny has thrown aside.

What does one need a blanket for when you have fur?

"Fuck if I know," the old woman growls, she growls like the wolf she is turning into.

Both of her feet, up to her knees, have turned vaguely paw shaped, huge paws, huge, gargantuan and silly coming from Granny's surprisingly shapely thighs, fur and sharp claws, one hand is gone, another paw, it looks unnatural and painful, Granny hides the panic well, but it's there, a werewolf's transition does not happen this way, and the sun is shining through the multicolored roof anyway, no moon in the sky to call any wolves to wakefulness.

Regina reaches out, takes what should be Granny's hand into her own grasp, petting the soft dappled fur that grows thick and warm, "How long has it been since you last turned?" Regina asks, almost breathless as she examines claws as long as her whole hand.

Granny shudders, the fur climbs further up her arm, sprouting out absurdly fast, "Nineteen years," Granny grits out.

"Does it hurt?"

"Of course it hurts," Granny admits, stubborn but not foolish, she has no need for this pain, isn't going to lie and make it seem less, it hurts like a bitch and looks like it should.

"Can't you stop it? With your magic or something," Ruby says, the word 'magic' hissed out, she says it from the tent flap, she's half in half out, Granny yells at her to get inside before Regina can.

Regina licks her lip, no answer ready for Ruby.

Rage won't fuel her magic, not any more, she has tried, remembering every awful thing in her life to awaken the rage, it had left her shaking and ready to kill, but her magic had not come.

Regina turns to look at Ruby, "Get Amber," Regina instructs, the woman's name coming to her, Amber's magic is peace, the girl is increasingly on Walter's arm, a pretty girl that cowers when in Regina's presence, but the girls magic is tranquility, the calm of still water and the heat of a too hot summer day.

Ruby's face twists up, obviously unhappy with being sent out, Granny growls from deep in her chest, her eyes darkening and Ruby takes one look before hurrying out the tent, screaming Amber's name wildly, as the young wolf has no idea where to find her, but the camp is not big by any means, Ruby's voice carries, she'll return and Amber will calm the wolf that has woken, peaceful thoughts lulling and soothing, it's the only solution that comes to Regina's mind.

"Do you know why this is happening," Regina asks, petting the paw without thought, the fur soft through her fingers, "Why now?"

Granny isn't one to shy from hard questions, "I had a dream," she says, wears the same half shrug Ruby had earlier, "a nightmare, must have frightened me enough to think I needed the wolf."

"A nightmare?" It must have been quite the nightmare to awaken a dormant wolf left so long sleeping, "About what?"

Granny's not wearing her glasses, she's still in her nightclothes, she's rumpled and looks so suddenly old sitting there with her half transformed body, "It was about you," she admits, staring at Regina, her eyes yellowing, turning golden and more golden as seconds tick by.

Regina swallows, doesn't think it wise to look away from the wolf, she knows Ruby had learned control, but she doesn't know if Granny ever had, and even if she had it has been long years, "What did I do? In the nightmare?" It must have been quite horrible to illicit this reaction, Regina fights the urge to cringe, you mustn't show wolves fear.

The wolf slips for a moment from Granny's face, and she just looks sad, sad and tired too, exasperated and just sad, "Idiot girl," she says, reaches out her still human hand, lands it in Regina's hair and soothes her as she hadn't done in far too long, Regina won't admit to missing the soft touches (but she had, she had desperately). Regina tucks closer to the affection Granny is letting loose, tucking her head in towards Granny's hand and the motion of her head, something about it, has Granny's face twitching, she looks so sad, "It wasn't something you'd done," Granny says, "it was something done to you."

That answer isn't expected, the surprise must show on Regina's face because not a second goes by before Granny's strong grip is pulling Regina forward into a fierce embrace, the old woman is strong and it's a growl, half wolf, half woman, "Idiot girl," she repeats.

They pull apart only when Ruby comes charging back in, the witch Amber held in her grasp, Ruby's eyes dig and dig at Regina as Regina leaves Granny's embrace, frown on the young wolfs pretty mouth.

* * *

**authors note, tell me yo thoughts yall? good or bad or crazy tell mmmmeeeeeee**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	41. Chapter 41

Tink comes to him, as he's practicing with his bow, as he's trying to improve Arthur's aim, "Robin," she has her arms crossed, that pretty face frowning, "I need your help to convince Regina. We're running out of time!"

Robin had learned long ago that some battles are unwinnable; that no matter how hard you try sometimes all that awaits you is failure. Tinkerbelle is about to learn it now.

Robin throws a glance to her before returning to study Arthur's form, study the grip he has on the bow.

"You were the fairy that led Regina to me that day in the tavern, weren't you?" Robin asks, nudges Arthur's arm, and nudges again when Arthur moves it too far. The man will never be an archer.

The question brings a smile to Tinkerbelle's face, pride shining, as if it were she that built all their love, as if it were the pixie dust that _made_ him love Regina, but their love is not some gift from a fairy, it was hard won, a brutal battle that Robin is still fighting, a fight to earn and keep Regina's trust, he has her love, as she has his, but it's hard and it's brutal, but never is it not worth it, he fights so hard because she is a part of him, he cannot live without her, not now that he has had her, she is sweetest agony, she is soaring happiness, (she loves him, it makes it all worthwhile, her love gives him strength) she is a part of him he never knew he was missing, his thoughts are a jumble, he wants to explain it to the fairy, he doesn't know how to put it into words, but that expression on her face deeply upsets Robin.

"Yes," Tinkerbelle answers, she rolls her eyes, "she was too afraid to go to you," as if Tinkerbelle can't comprehend fear, as if she doesn't know the crippling sensation when fear runs through you and you cannot breath. But can a fairy even feel fear? Robin doesn't know.

"So you are undoubtedly aware that Regina and I are, as you say, soul mates?" Robin turns away from Arthur after Arthur lets loose his arrow, swearing as it goes over the target and into the woods behind. Robin looks to Tinkerbelle, he has no smile for the fairy, but no malice either, "You are aware that I love her so intensely I would burn the world if it dared take her from me?"

She frowns lightly, wary of this line of questioning, as well she should be, "yes," she answers.

"Do fairy's love?" Robin asks as Arthur trudges off in search of the arrow, thumping the bow into Robin's arms as he jogs over into the wood, there is no bite to Robin's words, only curiosity, if a fairy doesn't know fear, do they feel love?

Tinkerbelle lets out a breath, a little offended huff of air, "Yes, of course we love!"

Then how can she not understand him? Why need he explain this to her? "And yet you stand before me and ask me to send out the woman I _love_ to fight a monster? You beg me to help you convince her to go off with no promise of ever returning?"

Tinkerbelle takes a step back from him, he has not moved any closer, but she steps back, her pretty face crumping in confusion, as if she had not ever thought of it that way.

"People are dying, innocents are dying!" Tinkerbelle says, "We need Regina to-"

"To what?" Robin asks, he gestures with the long bow in his hand, thrusting it out to the side, "Go and fight the witch? Heedless of consequence and danger? You need her to lay down her life?" Robin doesn't know what gave the fairy the idea that he was somehow in agreement with her, what made her think Robin at all wanted to venture out into the warzone the kingdom has become, if it were only him, him and his Merry Men, he would be out in a heartbeat, but it is not just Robin, not anymore, it is Roland, only four years old, and Regina, who does not have her magic, who carries Robin's baby inside of her, "What of the child that grows inside of her, is that life not innocent?"

She shakes her head fiercely, "You're twisting my words, I would never wish harm on her, or the bab-"

"But you would ask her to leave this safety, would you not?"

Tinkerbelle lets out a deep breath, has no words until she shakes her head again, looking at him strangely, "All the stories call you a hero, Robin the brave and true, the thief who stole from the rich to give to the poor, you live in safety while others are dying, Robin Hood, how can you call yourself a good man?"

"I call myself nothing, for there are only men," Robin says to her, as Arthur huffs and puffs back and grabs back the bow, more determined than ever to learn how to properly use it, "men who love and live until they are dead."

She takes it for the goodbye that it is, thoughtful expression on her brow as she crosses her arms and walks away.

* * *

Regina wakes from her nightmares silently, Robin knows he usually does not wake when they occur, guilt ravishes him in the mornings, if she kisses him as soon as he wakes, those kisses mean she had a nightmare, had a nightmare in the night and woke in silence (and did not want to bother him, worry him, they've spoken of it before, Robin had told her to wake him, no matter what, wake him, but she doesn't, she wakes in silence and let's Robin sleep.)

But tonight Robin can't sleep, Regina is on her back next to him, eyes closed and breathing easy, in her sleep one hand rests against her abdomen, resting over the baby she is so sure will die. Robin has scooted down the bedroll so his face is by her middle, he's propped up on one elbow, Robin's other hand is warm resting on her belly, his fingertips over hers, his palm flat against the taut skin of the pregnancy that is truly starting to show, he's not imagining it, the curve is there, a soft swell to what was once a flat stomach, Robin has bunched her nightshirt up past her waist, so that his hand can rest against her warm soft skin, so her own hand can fully encounter the pregnancy she is so careful to not touch when awake. Robin moves his thumb back and forth over the taut skin, he leans forward, presses a kiss to the womb that shelters his daughter, moves his lips up to kiss Regina's hand, to kiss each of her fingers, Robin is watching her quietly, sleep won't come to him.

Regina had frightened Robin badly today, at midday as Granny was glopping out shares of lunch Regina had dropped her bowl to the ground before she made it to her seat, her seat between Robin and Roland, a gasp from Regina's lips and Robin was on his feet towards her, barely reached her before she stumbled and fell to her knees in the dirt.

"I don't feel well," Regina had said, an understatement if Robin had ever heard one, but more the truth then the 'I'm fine' he'd expected from her, she was suddenly pale, blinking back dizziness, and clutching at Robin's hand on her arm, the only thing keeping her on her knees instead of on her back.

Granny had forced water and broth down Regina's throat, muttering things like 'too skinny' under her breath, and after a time Regina had felt better, she said she had, but the terror is still in Robin, even as his hand rests against Regina's warm skin.

She still looked pale.

Carrying Roland had almost killed Marian.

Robin can see a baby girl in the future, bouncing and beautiful, but the sudden terror that Regina could be lost, _that_ has him reeling and terribly afraid, and he cannot sleep. Regina is so hesitant, so wary of the life that grows in her, and Robin suddenly feels the same, it's a raging battle inside him, his love for the child he still has not seen, his hope that she will add to the family Regina and Robin are to build, against the crippling fear that Regina was right all along, that he was too pigheaded to listen to her, and that along with losing the child, Robin will lose Regina as well.

But he is a hopeful man, through all of life's suffering, he is a hopeful man and he kisses her warm skin once again.

When her nightmare starts her entire body goes stiff, like a statue, rigid for a time, before a whimper leaves her lips and her hand leaves her stomach, both her hands reach down and fist in the blanket, no screams, no cries, another whimper, Robin tries to sooth her with his hand on her belly, but at the gentle motion Regina's whole body spasms, she rolls facing away from Robin with a huge gasp.

Her breath leaves her in pants, and Robin's guilt grows, he sleeps through this? She's not as silent as he'd always thought, she's crying, she's sobbing, choking on it to try to beat it down. When Robin reaches for her she flinches again, flinches away from him, still asleep, "Regina," Robin says, he does not try to touch her again, he speaks to her, soft soothing words that she doesn't seem to hear for a full three minutes, but he doesn't stop speaking to her.

"I'm here, Regina, I'm right here," Robin says, risks laying a hand flat on her back as her breath starts to even, deep lungfulls drawn in and metered out carefully, she's awake, she doesn't flinch.

"Robin", she sobs out his name, her breath still hiccupping, "Hold me, please?" Regina asks, still on her side, still facing away from him, Robin works himself behind her, spooning her, holding her tightly. He breathes in the smell of her hair, nose nuzzling the soft tresses until he can kiss the back of her neck softly.

She's shaking still, as if she's cold, he knows it is not the temperature, but he reaches down for the blankets and brings them up to cover them better.

"I love you," her voice surprises him, she whispers, her hands land over one of his, draw it up to her face, his knuckles against her lips, and it's not just the sound of her voice that surprises him, nor the words, they tell each other of their love every day, it's the vulnerability in her tone that surprises him.

"As I love you, Regina," Robin answers, moves his head to say it in her ear, his arms tighten, the hand not drawn up to her face rests on the bump that holds his growing daughter, "Listen to me, you are my light and my life, beautiful and brave, I adore you, I could not live wit-," she trembles, sobs out a breath against his hand, her breath hot, and turns to face him, stopping his words with a desperate kiss that has their teeth colliding, but his hands pull her closer, his fingers splayed across her back.

When she pulls away, just far enough for their lips to part and no farther, Robin has never seen her so raw, so terribly open, the thought comes to him that he could devastate her, two words, maybe three, and he could tear her apart so badly she would never rise, Regina knows it too, and it's why she looks so afraid. She looks tired too, Robin draws her to lie on his chest with a hand at the scuff of her neck, rubbing her back in circles, she is asleep practically at once, the baby drains her energy, as it drains her strength.

The warmth of her half on top of him has him blinking his eyes lazily, her breaths lull him, each soft exhale blown across his neck, but it's a troubled sleep Robin falls into.

He dreams of fairies and a green witch, of a baby and the love of his life dying while holding his hand. It is a troubled sleep.

* * *

Roland is frowning.

The thoughtful frown that has his bottom lip protruding, looking so much like Marian that an ache throbs in Robin before he bops the boy's nose with a finger.

"Are you alright, my boy?" Robin asks, Regina looks up at the question, looks up from the plate of 'food' that she's eating with a scowl, looks and sees that thoughtful frown on Roland's face, the child's gaze intent on her belly.

"I'm just thinking," Roland mutters, shovels food in his mouth without looking, managing to get half the gruel on his chin instead of in his mouth.

Regina makes a displeased hum, her food left and forgotten before her as she leans forward and cleans Roland's face with a cloth, the motion made with practiced ease, obviously her Henry had been just as prone to a messy face as Roland. The thought of her son has Robin frowning, not that he has not thought of the lad before, but it's looking at Regina now, her hands occupied cleaning Roland, the bump of her pregnancy really and truly showing for the first time he can recall through the layers she wears, it's the first time he understands that the baby will have a brother she will never know.

(the baby could have a mother she'll never know, if pregnancy claims Regina's life as it had almost done Marian, if the baby lives, but he knows the baby will, knows it as he knows the sun rises in the east and sets in the west)

"How did the baby get in your belly?" Roland asks Regina, and Robin chokes on empty air.

Little John guffaws from his seat next to Robin, Walter lets out a sort of whine that is all sympathy and awkwardness from his spot next to Regina, Farouk smiles and takes another chug from his canteen. Robin has only silence for the boy, silence and gawking eyes, gaze going from the boy, to Regina's belly. My sweet baby, Robin thinks, my beautiful son, he's growing more every day, but is still _much_ too young for the anatomically correct answer to his question. Robin does not know what to tell the boy.

Roland puts his plate down, lands both hands over the baby bump, Regina seems to freeze for a long moment, and so, so slowly, she lands her own hands atop the boys, the first time Robin has ever seen her awake and allowing herself to touch the growing belly, Roland's bottom lip is still pouting, "Regina?"

Her silence is heavy, Robin reaches out to the boy, he'll think of something to tell him, think of something in the next five seconds that will sound perfectly reasonable to a little boy, Robin is sure something will come to him, but Regina is already answering.

"When two people love each other very, very much," Regina says, and at her voice the men still snickering turn their ears to her, those around the fire all looking to her and trying to look as if they are studiously _not_ looking at her. Robin looks up to her face, she's licking her lips, "they get to have a baby. The baby has to grow inside," she stutters, "a," breathes in, "a mommy, because it's so tiny at first."

"But how did she get _in_?" Roland is still frowning, the only clue that Regina is at a loss is the tightening of her hands over Roland's, pressing the child's fingers against the swell.

Regina lets out a sigh of air, and something absolutely mischievous crinkles the corners of her eyes, a smile growing, a small grin, "Roland, I think you're old enough to know the truth, you are a big boy, aren't you?"

Roland looks so serious; he nods his little head determinately.

Surely she isn't going t-

Her smile turns up to Robin, reassuring him as if she can hear his very thoughts, she looks beautiful with that smile, with the weak sun on her and her hands over Roland's on her growing middle, very suddenly Robin is breathless, almost misses her answer as his focus is entirely on how beautiful she is, "Your Papa and I," she pauses, eyes intent on the boy, head tilting down to look the child squarely in the eye, "we had to kiss to make the baby," she says, at the word kiss Roland's eyes widen.

"_Kisses_ made you have a baby in your tummy?" the horror in the child's voice sends John into a fit of giggles that he tries to hide behind his hand, but the boy does not notice, not as Regina nods solemnly, blinking slowly. One of her hands leaves it's spot over Roland's, it's held out to Robin, palm up, fingers curled to beckon him and he's moving closer before he has time to think, grabbing the hand she offers, she draws him in and gives him the most innocent kiss they have ever shared, closed lipped, three seconds and then she's pulling back with a dramatic lip smack.

The horror seems to grow on the child's face, "Kisses make babies?" he asks again, the terror in his eyes has Robin smiling softly as he wraps an arm around Regina's waist, Robin wonders what exactly Roland and his young lady love have been up to.

After the boy has dazedly returned to his meal, eaten it without looking at it at all, he stumbles off, and that's when Little John absolutely breaks apart, his laughter booming out, he points one accusatory finger at Regina, delight in his features, "You have traumatized that child! He'll never touch his little friend again!"

Regina shrugs a shoulder, she dislodges Robin's arm from around her, throwing him a quick look in apology. "He's much too young to be sharing kisses," Regina scoffs.

"A cruel trick, for sure, the poor boy will be scarred," John says, and at the word 'cruel' Regina's smile slips from her face, gone like it was never there, John is taking another bite off his plate, looks up at Regina with a smile and when he sees the expression on her face, as horror struck as Roland's had been minutes ago before she erases all sign of distress from her features, John puts his fork back down, "I did not mea-"

She licks her lips, her tongue catches and sticks for a moment at the scare above her lip, the dent there that Robin loves to run his thumb over before he has her suck his fingers as they lay together, "That wasn't cruelty," Regina says, quietly, but it has those around the fire holding their breaths as though she were yelling.

"I misspoke," John agrees, he smiles and Regina blinks, when Robin lifts a hand to her back she doesn't shake it off.

* * *

He'd been born patient, Robin's mother always told him.

His mother had long golden hair, it was the most striking of her features, she has been dead many years, he had a sketch of her face once, lost like so many other things he'd once held closely. Not that he doesn't recall his mother's face, just that things are lost in time, the swoop of her nose is lost to him, the shape of her eyebrows too, but he can close his eyes and remember her even now.

A quiet child, thoughtful, and kind, a patient child, his mother would complement him often, 'my good boy.'

Robin remembers his childhood years being anything but quiet, filled with screeching games and songs of summer, can remember numerous times when he'd shown the thoughtlessness children were famous for.

But his mother told him he'd been born patient.

"Locksley must have the patience of a saint," the man with the wineskin in his hand slurs, Robin is outside the ring of the fire, watching, his feet stopping, at the words he remembers his mother's smiling face, her work hardened skin warm against his cheek as she'd caressed his face.

Farouk stops as well, the pair of them both watching the man who's drunken a bit too much wine sway in his seat, another man grumbles, tears the wineskin from the speaker, tries to shush him, but the tipsy man laughs, "Queen's gotta have some sweet pussy too, is all I gotta say," Farouk grabs at Robin, unyielding as he stops Robin from assaulting the drunken man.

"She's hot mess, that's for sure," the second man agrees, Robin doesn't quite know the terminology, but the laughter it draws has his blood boiling.

Farouk's hand on him tightens, pulls on him, the old man is strong, is shorter then Robin, leaner, but he's relentless and pulls Robin away.

He's still seething when George's voice calls through the camp, loud in the darkness, calling for a healer, and fear moves in on the anger.

Marian had almost died carrying Roland.

Regina was pale, the baby sapped her strength like a parasite slowly killing her.

And that's what Robin imagined as his feet carried him towards George's voice, imagining her dying, pregnant and dead before him, he'd lost her to death twice before, it would be absurd if it wasn't so painful, so gut wrenchingly painful, it's not till he can see George, minutes spent running, that Robin becomes aware that he and Regina's tent is on the other side of the camp.

George and Aniol are outside the tent, Walter's tent, why would Walter need a-

"It's Emil," George answers the unasked question.

Robin's mouth falls open, he blinks, "What of him?"

"Dying," Aniol growls, hand on George's back as George fights tears, the old man loved George just as much as he loved his grandson Walter.

"I did not know he was ill," Robin says, and he hadn't, had seen the old man just two days ago, laughing and flirting with the old woman that turned pinecones into fruit, an old gnarled hand encasing an equally old and gnarled hand.

"He fell down to his knees," Aniol says, "yesterday, at midday meal. Worse and worse till now," Aniol wraps his arms around George, George is a snot covered mess already. Walter looks ten times worse than George as he slips from the tent; he swallows and gives a pain filled smile to Robin.

"Boppa said you'd be out here," Walter says, he shakes his head at Robin, chuckles out a bitter breath, "go, he's asking for you."

The dying old man is asking for him, this unexpected despair washes over Robin; he's numb, in shock as he enters the tent. It reeks of illness, of thick stuffy air, and death, it smells of death, but he has hard stomach, and a kind nature, he goes to the bedside.

He'd thought the old man would outlive him, honestly had, the sight of him now, suddenly frail and thin, his skin papery thin, just two days ago Emil was whispering and making an old woman giggle like a girl, and now the mere sight of him has Robin thinking of sickness, of death. The old man is dying.

"Stop gawking, boy," Emil's eyes are sparkling, it looks feverish. Weak hands grab at Robin as Robin kneels by the bedroll, weak, the old man's hands are weak. "The choice," Emil garbles, "Robin, the choice, please." Emil, who can see the future, who had looked and saw two paths for Regina and Robin, one of sorrow, one of happiness, "It's not yet made, Robin, listen, listen," Robin's frown grows, his face scrunching.

"No," Robin says, because Regina is pregnant already, pregnant with one of the daughter's Emil had seen and told him off, the choice is made, whatever the choice was, it was made, it's happiness Robin will have, it has to be.

"She," Emil stutters, his throat working desperately, "must be your strength, Robin, the queen," he's hacking, coughing up phlegm, Robin's hand in his grasp, he holds it as if it is the only thing keeping him from the deathgate, "I'm sorry."

"Don't," Robin doesn't know what the old man is sorry for, but will not have his last utterance be an apology.

The old man barks out a cough, violent and sudden, overwhelming, his eyes clear, right before death takes him, "My gift," his voice is strangled, his eyes look at something over Robin's shoulder, his countenance is filled with drowning relief, eyes locked in the empty air, "it must go to the next," his face relaxes, "forgive," and then he is dead, his last act asking for forgiveness, Robin doesn't know for what, Emil's words almost nonsense to Robin. Robin has not always held love for the man, but his eyes burn looking at him lifeless.

Robin closes the old man's eyes.

* * *

**Emil, last seen in chapter 27**

* * *

**authors note, I've returned to you dear readers! how are you all? so everything Robin does here obviously fits into MY personal headcannon, and everyones is different, which is why fanfiction is so amazing and lovely and all that jazz, but I'd love to hear your thoughts on all this? like honestly truly I would love to know what you think.**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	42. Chapter 42

_Henry holds his sister, "Um, she's cute, Mayor Mills," he says, obviously uneasy and uncomfortable holding the frail form of the baby that starts to wail in a thready and needy cry. He stiffens, his mouth twisting down in a terrified frown._

* * *

_MY GIFT_

* * *

_Henry holds his sister, "Mom," Henry's smile is the widest she's ever seen, his eyes bright with joy, with life and love, "she's so tiny," he chuckles, bounces on the balls of his feet, his grip secure on the baby, "she looks just like you!"_

* * *

_IT MUST GO TO THE NEXT_

* * *

_Henry holds his sister, "I'm so sorry," he sobs, almost unintelligible, the baby is blue and cold and dead, limp, bundled in a pale pink blanket with fluffy white bunnies stitched around the edge in a continuous loop, she's dead, she's dead, the baby is dead, dead, blue, another blue baby._

* * *

_FORGIVE_

* * *

Regina wakes up screaming.

Screaming and she's tearing at her eyes.

She's already dug gouges into her face, she feels the wounds throbbing as she stifles her screams, as she sits up and forces her hands down into her lap, staring at them with wide eyes, staring at them, her own flesh under her nails, her blood staining her fingertips.

"Regina!" her name is called from outside the tent, the frantic voice of Friar Tuck, she can't get her voice to work, she opens her mouth, tilts her head up away from the hands that have betrayed her, but no words come.

His worry is enough for him to part the flap of the tent, his mouth gapes open at the sight of her, "Regina," he breathes, she realizes she's shaking, shaking and lost, and flashes of Henry are playing through her mind, disjointed flashes of him, nonsensical and mushed together, no nightmare has ever left her gouging at her eyes, it was no nightmare. She's terribly frightened.

Friar Tuck makes as if to enter, he looks skittish, a hand held out as if she's likely to strike out at him, "My god," he says, his other hand clutching his rosary in a tight fist, "What has happened?"

"Where's Robin?" she asks, she pants, instead of answering his desperate question, she's still shaking, more than a nightmare just occurred, nightmares don't leave her gouging at her eyes, Henry is not in her nightmares, and there's the electric sizzle of magic in the air, suffocating her, cloying at lungs, in the very air she's breathing.

She has to get out. She needs new air. She needs to get out. When she tries to rise she finds her knees weak, Friar Tuck stands just inside the flap, as she fails to rise he makes no move closer, he sounds a protest that is ignored. Regina's breath is harsh in through her nose, exhaled quickly through her mouth, the wounds to her face throb and throb, she has to get out, she's crawling, legs trapped in the blanket and it's suffocating, she's suffocating, white hot magic thrumming in the air around her, in her lungs, in her brain, the baby, she thinks, the baby, it's in the baby, no, the startling cold of the night air hits her and that's the only way she knows she's exited the tent, she's in only a nightshirt, one of Robin's nightshirts that leave most of her legs bare, the cold has some semblance of coherence returning to her, but it's more than panic eating at her, it's magic digging in her brain, digging in her body, seeping out of the tent after her as she digs dirt under her nails along with her blood, as she rests her forehead against the ground, breathing in cold and earth on her hands and knees.

A hand lands on her upper back, Friar Tuck's pudgy fingers, his swollen fingers, rubbing in a circle that's meant to calm, but he is not Robin, "Robin," her teeth are chattering, she's shivering, the foreign magic _digging into her brain_.

"Find him," Friar Tuck screams, shrill, the man sounds shrill, rustling and then pounding feet, men heeding Tuck.

* * *

_Henry is dead on the wooden planks of a dock._

* * *

_Henry is happy with-_

* * *

_Henry is-_

* * *

"Regina! Regina," Robin says, wrapping her in his arms and forcing her to sit up with her back to his chest, her hands rise up to clutch at his forearm, her teeth still chattering, flashes of her son playing in her mind, a different scenario each flash.

Her fingers are at her eyes again.

"Her eyes!" someone says, maybe John, Robin grabs at her wrists, tugging at them, his grip tight, it takes more than just his hands to stop her, two other pair of hands are on her, trying to restrain her claws, her hands move of their own accord, even as Regina tries to burrow her body closer to Robin, to his warmth and his solid body, he's holding her so, so tightly, and trying to grab her hands.

* * *

_Henry…and Emma in New York, he has friends and only one mother._

* * *

"She won't stop shaking," Robin's voice is desperate, Regina's not in the dirt anymore, she's under heavy blankets.

* * *

_Henry, and Snow, and Roland, Regina's baby girl in Snow's arms, Snow's baby boy in Regina's arms, happy, they are happy._

* * *

"Regina," Robin's voice, the weight of his hand in hers, Regina can't do more than murmur his name, turn her head towards him, he lands a kiss on her forehead. She tries to smile for him.

* * *

_Henry and his sister-_

* * *

_Henry and Roland are sitting at the kitchen island-_

* * *

Regina opens her eyes slowly, her face hurts, her whole body hurts, but her mind is clear.

"Robin," she says, licking her lips and turning her head to look for him.

She's not surprised to find her hands bundled tightly in layers and layers of rags, bundled like a newborns to keep her nails from digging into her face.

"I'm here, I'm right here," he answers, he's sitting by her feet, but he crawls up to her side, a hand petting her hair off her forehead. "Oh, Regina," he's shaking his head, he's frightened.

"Did a seer die?" Regina asks, it's not a fight to keep her eyes open, sunlight is filtering through the canvas of the tent Robin and Regina share; it has to be at least mid-morning.

A seer died last night.

Robin's brow furrows, his eyes flicking over her face, over the wounds she'd gouged in an attempt to dig out her eyes, a seer must be blind, a seer blinds themselves, "Yes," he breathes, "Emil, Walter's grandfather."

A sigh escapes her, a deep sigh as she closes her eyes and turns on her side, curling around Robin's kneeling form. He lands one of his hands on her back, rubbing up and down her spine, the other still held to her forehead, "What happened? Regina, please, I'm terrified, please."

"shhh," she soothes, one thick bundle of rags landing on his thigh as she tries to comfort him, "It's alright," she says, "I'm alright."

"You look far from alright," Robin answers, his voice is sharp with worry, with a night of watching her thrash and try to blind herself, his hand presses harder against her spine, and then much of his weight is on her, an odd embrace as he rests against her side while still on his knees.

"A seer dies, but the gift lives on," Regina tries to explain to him, explain gifts and different kinds of magic, of magic that fades to the inbetween after death, and magic that lives on, he nods, his forehead against her side, against her ribs. A seer's gift lives on, passes to another. A seer blinds themselves.

"Emil begged me to forgive him," Robin says at the end of her words, he grabs at her, pulls her closer, impossibly closer, breathing her in, his nose buried in the nightshirt she'd pilfered from him, "for this, he begged me to forgive him this," Robin sounds as if he's had a realization, and he's not happy about it at all.

"Robin-"

"How could he possibly think I could," Robin sits up, his hand clenching the fabric at Regina's back, "how could he, he do this," Robin shakes his head, aiding Regina when she tries to sit, once she's up she immediately wraps her arms around Robin, hugging him to her with all the strength she has, he lands his chin on the top of her head, his own arms wrapping around her in return, "to you, how could he do this to you?" Robin asks. "_Blind_-"

"We'll fix it," Regina tells him, trying to soothe him, just words crooned to him to make him feel better, and he knows it.

"How?" Robin holds her so tight she can't breathe, it hurts, but she doesn't pull away, would never pull away from him, "Regina, what way is there out of this?"

Her silence is heavy between them, she has no answer for him, her hands are sweating under the rags tied tightly to keep her eyes safe.

"I saw Henry," Regina says, a smile brightening on her face, hesitant, this is a change of subject that Regina needs Robin to accept, she… she needs to not be talking about blindness right now. She'd seen her baby, her baby was older, taller, his voice deeper, but he would always be her baby, her sweet baby. "Robin," she mushes her face against his chest, sure that he can feel the smile, can no doubt hear it in her voice, "I saw my baby."

Robin lifts a hand to her hair, running his fingers through her strands from scalp to ends, "He was well?" he asks, and she can hear a smile in his voice, but his question has the flashes of a wounded and dead Henry popping in her mind, fast and blurred, the futures that could be, but there were more where he was alive and well and _happy_.

"Yes," she sobs, happy tears, but even happy tears have you snotty and gasping, but laughter is there as well; joy, oh, my god, her sweet baby. "He was so tall," Regina gasps out, her bundled hands scrabbling at Robin's back as she tries to bury herself in his chest. "my, my-" she draws in a ragged breath, "baby, Robin, he was-"

"Alright, shh," Robin eases her up into his lap, she lets him maneuver her however he will, suddenly overcome, the flashes of Henry, of his face and his lanky limbs, the sight of him, the sound of him, she misses him so much, so much.

A wail comes from Regina's open mouth, there's no laughter now, she turns her face into Robin's shoulder, muffling the sound, he rocks them back and forth, comforting fingers in her hair, a steadying hand resting over her stomach, it rises and falls with each shuddering breath she's able to draw in. Grief, she's overcome with terrible and aching grief, it had never left her, it comes and goes in waves but never is gone, and it's crashing on her now, beating at her.

She misses Henry so much.

Regina cries and cries against Robin's chest, held tightly to him as he runs his hands through her hair.

* * *

Roland is waiting when they exit the tent. He's sitting in the dirt where just last night Regina had crawled and landed face first, his head whips around, eyes already wide, clearly having been crying. "Oh, no, no," Regina says, slipping free of Robin's helping arm around her waist, slipping down to her knees and wrapping her arms around Roland as the boy sniffs. Her mittened hands are clumsy at the boys back, but he doesn't seem to notice, he's distressed and scared and only little boy, he starts to cry in Regina's arms.

"Shhh, shhh," Regina rocks him like his father had her, soothes him, "it's okay, Roland, shh."

"Your face," Roland says, his mouth mushed against her, "Regina, look what they did to you."

Regina stalls in her comforting him, Robin crouches beside the pair, "What?" Regina asks, holding Roland tighter, "No, Roland, I," she looks to Robin, who nods, "I did this to my face, Roland, I-"

"No!" Roland shakes his head violently; he tears back far enough to look up into Regina's eyes, "No, it was the mean ladies!"

Regina shakes her head, her eyes scrunching in confusion, but Robin makes a little sound of shocked recognition, it only adds to how lost Regina feels, "What mean ladies?" she asks, "Roland, what ladies?"

"The mean ones that wear white," Roland says, voice squeaky in his rage, "They don't have any eyes and they jealous and mean and _ugly_!" he shouts, head turning as if to yell to someone without knowing exactly where they are.

"Roland, calm down," Regina urges, "I'm alright," she tries, but the boy gives her such a hurt look, hurt and indignant.

"You're not," he cries, shaking his head, "the mean ladies want your eyes, Regina!"

Regina turns to Robin, his jaw is working, fear swims in his eyes, "Robin?" Regina says quietly.

Robin licks his lips, Regina's look returned to her, a promise to speak to her passed between them, Robin reaches for Roland, but the boy shakes his head once more, a scowl grows on his face, filled with such hatred, and before anyone can tell him to stop, his hands leap forward to Regina's face, glowing blue lilac before they even touch her, he slams his hands on her so hard she sees stars, but instantly the blue lilac glow of his magic soothes all her hurts, mends the skin of her face.

"Roland!" Robin yells, the boy thrashing in his arms as Robin pulls him from Regina, the boy sobbing in his arms and guilt falls heavy like lead onto Regina.

"You're mine!" Roland sobs, brown eyes filled with tears, smacking at Robin's restraining arms, "And they aren't taking you from me!" Roland weeps, his thrashing only growing in desperation and panic, Regina can only watch, her mouth open, tears of her own growing, "She's mine!" Roland shrieks, and the men around the fire, Robins Merry Men, who have tried to look like they weren't hearing everything, weren't seeing everything, they can't help but look to the desperately fighting child beating at his father's chest with ineffectual blows.

When she reaches for Roland she fears Robin will glare at her, snatch his son away, but she can't let him fight like this, can't let him sob like this without comforting him, she loves this boy so, so much, and she's causing him all this, guilt drowns her, "Roland," she says, and when she reaches for the boy Robin let's her close, shares the burden with her. "Roland, calm down, sweetheart, shhh," the boy does calm at her voice, still crying, but no longer fighting, little body worn from worry and fear. Regina pushes his fringe from his forehead, kisses a peck there, "I am yours," she tells him, and she is, "Roland, but I'm your Papa's too," Roland opens his eyes at that, red rimmed eyes, Regina smiles, "your Papa will protect me, you don't have to be so frightened," Robin stiffens, and Regina knows she's made a mistake, making it sound like Robin can protect her when they both know he likely can't.

"I'm your brave knight," Roland whispers, "_I_ gotta protect you," tiny hands in Regina's hair, pulling at it with desperate little fingers, but she hasn't the heart to pry him loose, hasn't the heart to do anything else but hug him closer, he and his father both, she hugs them close.

"You are my brave knight," Regina agrees, "but you're my baby too," she whispers, Roland is her baby, a child she loves with a mothers love though she is not blood and she did not bear him, but she loves him so much, "and it's a mama's job to protect her baby, not the other way around."

Roland sniffs, rubbing snot on her shoulder, "a mama," he echoes, he says it so faintly, she can't see his face as he says it, but his little arms snake around her neck more securely. Robin kisses the side of her head, his lips lingering against her hair.

Someone's stomach rumbles, she's not sure whose, but it's what has them drawing away from each other. The Merry Men pretend to have seen nothing.

With her bundled hands she can't use a utensil, and she absolutely refuses to have Robin feed her, she drinks her soup straight from the bowl, mittened hands clumsy, she drops the bowl halfway through the meal.

Walter stares at her bundled hands, stares and stares from them to the dropped bowl before he shoots to his feet with hurried apologies escaping him before he walks away shaking his head.

* * *

**_authors note, oh man I was away to long, I missed writing this so bad! it's like a bad addiction man, I gotta write it_**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	43. Chapter 43

Arthur has aged in these last months, Regina remembers their first meeting, lewd joke after lewd joke escaping the boy, he had been a boy then, a boy with round cheeks and a grin, his own torments hide behind the grin he still flashes, but she knows it's her torment now as well, "Could you see what I saw?" she asks him as he sits beside her, she had saved his life, had poured her last breath and last strength into Arthur not that long ago, and they dream their nightmares now together. Connected in a way she has not had time to research, her library was lost with the castle, her magic has not been willing to come to her, and with no books and no spells there are only so many answers she can find.

"They weren't just nightmares, were they?" he has his hands clasped tightly before him; he stares without shame at the rags that contain Regina's own hands.

"They were visions, of the futures that could be," Regina admits, she turns her head to look for Robin, finds Robin looking back at her from where he stands with Farouk and Little John, when she smiles at him, he smiles back and cuffs John on the shoulder before walking back to her.

"Emil's curse went to you?" Arthur asks, he had seen as clearly as any other Merry man what happened to her in the night, the gouges on her face may be healed, but she still feels them there, deep and aching, phantom pain from a wound that she'd had less than twelve hours.

"His gift," Regina corrects, "I believe it did."

"Was that," he shrugs, "strange place your home? Was that your land?" Arthur asks, question after question. Regina answers with a nod of her head; he calls Storybrooke her land, as if she belongs more to it then to here, and is that not the truth? Regina was so proud of that stupid little town, it was Henry's home, and after raising him there, ten years spent watching him run and grow on the unchanging streets, it was her home as well, more a home to her then the lonely halls of Leopold's castle, even after murdering him in his own bed the castle was always cold and dark and empty, always empty, Storybooke was more her home then even the manor she spent her childhood in.

"Yes," she answers as Robin sits on her other side, a hand sliding in place on her back, Robin has not left her side for more than scant minutes at a time, Roland too, had been nearly impossible to dislodge from beside her, neither boy nor man had voiced their worries further, but it was clear to any with eyes that they were still terribly afraid, the guilt has Regina drowning. Sweet June had been able to draw Roland away, making Roland a crown of stately flowers before begging the boy to play pretend with her, it took cajoling, and a hefty amount of reassurance from Regina that she would be fine and safe and Robin would not let anything happen to her while Roland was gone, before Roland went to play his game.

"How do we get there? How do we get to your boy?" Robin asks, and the answer is clear, though Regina does not want to admit it, a thrill runs through her even thinking of seeing Henry again, of Henry meeting Roland and the – the baby sister that Regina now knows she will carry to full term, after the baby's birth the future is unclear, but the baby will survive the pregnancy, only one future in the many she had seen had her daughter dead (dead and blue and limp, cold like the one other baby Regina had birthed so long ago), but that future is one in literally hundreds, that cannot be what will come, it cannot be.

(Robin was nowhere in her visions, he was not there, Roland was there in all the happy flashes, holding his sister, speaking with Henry, Roland was there and Robin would not be far from his son, Robin must be there for her, he will be, he said he would never leave her. The baby lives and Robin must be there.)

It's Arthur that answers Robin's question, "We go to Snow White's aid," he says, and the hand Robin has on Regina's back flexes.

"We have to leave our safety?" Robin asks, his voice tight, his voice directed at Regina, "To be with your son again, are you certain?"

Regina nods, her rag covered hands, her tightly bundled hands over her belly, she cannot hold the pregnancy as she wants and the scratchy feeling of the woolen rags is all she feels. Robin's free hand lands on Regina's belly, between where she's resting hers, his hand solid, his fingers soothing.

"Yes," Regina answers, and bitterness churns inside her at the knowledge that she need must once more help Snow White.

Robin shares a look with Arthur, not subtle, and not trying to be, Arthur stands and walks away, words of parting thrown over his shoulder.

"What would you have us do?" Robin asks, the hand on her back goes up into her hair, the hand on her belly slides up until it is at rest just below her breasts, his hands are warm, his fingers strong, Regina leans into his side, contemplates resting her head on his shoulder and then does so.

"Henry is my child," she whispers in response, "If there is even a chance of seeing him again, I-"

"I'll speak to the men," Robin mumbles into her ear as her words falter, "You are not alone in this, Regina."

'not alone,' Robin tells her, and the idea is still so foreign.

Hours later when night has fallen and Roland clings to Regina in his sleep, his little body wedged between his father and Regina, that's when Robin asks her plainly, "You saw your son, did you see our child as well?" he asks, his hand on her belly, she has her eyes closed, breathing in the scent of Roland's hair.

"Yes, a baby girl," she answers without opening her eyes, her lips turn up, she holds Roland tighter. Another child, she thinks, she will have a daughter.

"I knew it," Robin says, a soft chuckle escapes him, his lips land on her hairline, "my god, a baby girl, Regina," he sounds awestruck, she opens her eyes to find an idiotic and terribly happy grin stretching his whole face before he swoops down and captures her lips in a wet kiss. He works a hand into her hair, he always has a hand in it, pulling and gripping, petting, working the silky strands through his fingers, he adores her hair, he's gripping the tresses tightly, pulling her head forward, here is the passion Regina has missed, he's clutching at her, and if it weren't for Roland between them…

When they pull away they are both breathing heavy, Regina drops her head to her pillow, but he hovers on his elbow, looking down at her, still with that grin, "What does she look like?" he asks, filled with awe, with wonder, looking at Regina like she's the most precious thing in his world.

"She had dark hair," Regina whispers softly, turning her chin down into Roland's hair, his curly dark hair so much like the baby's, "I didn't see much else," but that is not quite the truth, she had seen skin color more akin to hers then Robin's, she had seen eyelids cracking open just long enough to spy dark eyes, the baby does not look like Robin, the baby does not look like her father. But Roland doesn't resemble Robin either, but for his grin and those adorable dimples, Roland takes after his mother, Robin's son does not resemble him, nor will his new daughter.

Regina knows Robin loves Roland more than anything, the boy his lifeline as Henry had been hers, the boy does not look like him and he loves him so, so much, he will love a daughter too, surely, a daughter that does not look like him. Cora had tsked her tongue once, you have your father's coloring, she had said, the only time she did so, a hand pecking at Regina's dark hair. She'd said it only once, but only once is all it took for something angry and hatefilled to take root inside Regina, only once was all it took to realize she was not completely what her mother wanted.

"Our daughter will be as beautiful as you," Robin tells her, moving to lie down finally, gathering Regina and Roland up against his side.

He will love this new child as he loves Roland, Regina knows, and smiles before exhaustion wins out and she falls into a sleep plagued with flashes of futures that could be, hundreds and hundreds of possibilities, she has dark circles under eyes come morning.

* * *

"Oh, I knew you'd see reason!" the fairy says, bouncing slightly, she is equal parts irritating and terribly endearing with her pretty smile and round cheeks, but Regina knows what fairies are underneath, Blue is cold, Blue is stale water, but when Tink goes in for a hug Regina allows the embrace. "When do we set off?" Tinkerbelle asks as she draws back, hands clasping at Regina's elbows, "Snow's camp is a five day trek by foot, if we move with speed."

"Two days," Regina says, they set off in two days, her and Robin (though Regina had begged him to stay behind, stay here in the safety of the camp, but he was as stubborn as Regina, 'you would ask me to sit idle as you left for danger?' he had asked, his hands holding between them the rags that still bound her, 'you are a fool if you truly expected that of me,' he told her and that was that), half the Merry Men, and Ruby, that was their group, they would leave in two days.

Leave in two days to help Snow White. Regina had saved the girl once, and it had destroyed her life. It had cost her Daniel, it had cost her freedom, it had landed her in a marriage she never wanted, sharing a bed with a man old enough to be her father, years spent in that marriage bed, a bed filled with pain and tears, filled with blood. Shackled and restricted, a heart inside her that she allowed to grow darker and darker, hate festering inside her, until the darkness consumed her, and she had let it consume her.

Regina had let it happen.

* * *

Roland weeps, weeps and weeps, and all Regina is ever doing is causing this beautiful little soul pain, his hands are savage at her dress, pulling and twisting, "please," he weeps, begging to go with them.

"You need to be safe," she's sobbing as well, "Roland, please," Regina is holding the boy in her lap, her arms holding him tight, her hands useless in the rags, useless and bundled and hot, her fingers sweaty.

"I'm a big boy!" Roland screams, "I'm big and brave, please, take me too, take me with you!"

Telling the boy before bedtime was a mistake, for an hour now he has been crying, weeping and screaming, more and more upset, he's tired and he's desperate, pulling on Regina's hair, fighting Robin when Robin tries to loosen his hands from her.

"You need to be safe, shhh honey please," Regina sobs, Roland was never going to take it well, but this is a nightmare, all Regina does is make Roland cry.

Roland's words are an incoherent mess, speaking of ladies in white, speaking of a monster with a thousand eyes and a thousand wings always following Regina's steps, he weeps that he cannot lose another Mama.

When he finally falls asleep, it's with his cheeks wet, his breath trembling softly, whimpers leaving him, before sleep takes him he turns his face into her neck, "Don't leave me," he begs, "Mama, don't leave me."

He is dead to the world after that, loose and easy for Robin to move off her, Robin puts the boy down on the bedding, arranging his head comfortably on the pillow before he grabs at Regina and tugs her against him, tears in his own eyes.

"He can't come with us," Robin rasps, it's not necessary, Regina knows that a warzone is no place for a child, she knows that here in the shadow that the boy Liam provides all will be hidden, Roland will be hidden and safe, with John and half a dozen Merry Men to protect him, Roland will be safe, safe but not _with_ her, not with her and Robin, the boy is beside her, but already the loss of him is keen and sharp in her side.

She shakes her head against his chest, stifling her almost sobbing, muffling the lungfulls of air she sucks in, holding Robin, anchoring herself against him, taking his strength and the comfort he gives freely, he's leaving his son, yet he comforts her.

"I'm sorry," Regina says, makes a halfhearted attempt to leave Robin's embrace, but it takes only one tug from him for her to stop, "he's your son and I'm-"

"Did you hear him call you Mama?" Robin asks, and Regina freezes against him, muscles growing tense, in response Robin rubs her back softly, up and down her spine, over her hair, "Did you hear him?" he repeats.

She nods against his chest, let's out a deep breath, "Does it bothe-"

"Do not finish that question," he hisses, his rubbing hand stills, his arms tighten, dragging her forward and awkwardly against him and half into his lap. "We are family, you and I and Roland, your son Henry too, when we reach him," he is too good for her, far too good, willing to jump realms for a boy that is not even his own. It was without question, it was without even a full conversation, as if there was only one possible decision after he heard her wants, he had been willing to leave this world since the moment it was brought forth. For her, Robin would do it for her.

Regina moves back from him, looking up into his eyes, the way he looks at her is like nothing else she has ever known, he looks at no one else like this, with warmth and love and desperate want, crinkles at the corners of his eyes, eyes bright, it's love in his eyes when he looks at her, she could drown in that love. His eyes widen when she pulls the Bonder from her pocket, the red ribbon is heavy in her hand as she holds it between them.

"I love you," Regina tells him as she urges him to hold up his arm, when he does so, numbly, his mouth slack, she begins to wrap the ribbon around his wrist.

He flinches back, "I would never ask this of you, Regina," Robin whispers.

"I trust you," Regina says before she leans in to kiss him, to slide her tongue out, to bite his bottom lip and drag it as she finishes wrapping the ribbon, she backs away from the kiss to look down and tie her knot.

The Bonder was a cruel thing in the hands of Leopold, he had tightened it about Regina's throat, pulled it so tight she could barely breath, her skin slicing under the magic of the ribbon, her blood staining it, in Leopold's hands it was a thing to track and monitor, a thing to strip the last of her freedom, but Robin is not Leopold, Robin is Robin, strong and sure and loving, true in words and actions, he has Regina's trust in a way no one else before him ever had, even sweet Daniel had not had Regina as Robin has her. Robin moves his arm up from her grasp, he sweeps his fingers through her hair behind her ear.

"So you can always-" find me, Regina almost says, but those are what the idiot's say, because they are always losing each other, always playing a ridiculous game of Where's my True Love, something better comes to Regina, something more truthful, "So you can always be with me," she tells him, arms wrapping around his neck and drawing him down, kissing him and kissing him, all heavy breathes and wet tongue, greedy kisses for them both.

The air in the tent is humid and hot when they part, Regina is tired, Robin as well, but she has one  
last thing to ask of him before sleep can calm them, she cannot fight with her heart vulnerable inside her, she asks Robin to pull it out.

"What?" a whispered shriek comes from him, his hands at her shoulders, holding her, his fingers hard enough to bruise.

"I'll leave it behind here," Regina soothes, her hands running up his chest and back down, rubbing over the shirt he wears, "hidden and safe, the wicked bitch tried to take it from me once, I won't be able to stop another try. It will be safe here, just like Roland."

"Your heart-"

"It won't hurt me, Robin," she assures him, scooting closer to him, but not close enough, she goes to her knees and shuffles forward until she can wrap her legs around him, until she's all in his lap, so close they share air, and it's right, _this_ is where she belongs, "Please, I need you to do this for me," she tells him, her head canting down, their noses bumping, she needs him to do this thing, because her magic has deserted her, purple magic will not come, the magic that comes from rage and hate will not come, white magic will not come, magic that comes from love and care and wanting to protect will not come, it burns under her skin, but that is as far as it goes. Her magic won't come, and it leaves her weak, Robin must be her strength.

It takes him a moment to nod, a slow nod, "How do I do it?" he whispers, his hand already working between them, he frames his hand under her left breast, his fingers curling over her rib cage, his thumb on her sternum.

She teaches him, and when his hand sinks into her, passing through skin and bone and muscle, it does not hurt at all, his calloused hands gentle and easy, slow, his touch soft, a gasp escapes her, she jostles on his lap, he stills, "Are you alright?" he asks, his eyes wide, staring at his hand half in her chest.

"Keep going," she urges, and he does. When his fingers grasp her heart, the beating organ that thrump thrumps against his palm, there is no pain, a bolt of something hot and wonderful races from his fingers and into her, she jolts, but not from pain. "I'm alright," she says before he can ask, her bundled hands are around his neck.

When he pulls it out, slowly, so slowly, Regina gasps, with it gone she's suddenly tired, the heart is held in his hand, looking small in his long fingers, she falls against him, boneless and panting, she can feel the panic in Robin as she deflates, but she can't help it, "s'okay," she mumbles, licking her lips, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of him, without her heart she feared things would be darker, she would feel her love muddled, but that is not so, against Robin's chest, with his warmth and his comfort all around her, the love she feels is just as powerful as ever before.

She falls asleep in his lap, against him, with his arms wrapping around her, her heart still beating in his hand.

* * *

Granny's breath leaves her in harsh pants, so angry her face is red, hands on her hips, "You would have me sit here on my heels while you go gallivanting off into an endless stream of life and death situations?" she says hotly.

"Granny," Regina starts, but the old woman talks over her.

"How dare you come into _my life_," the old woman seethes, eyes narrowed behind her glasses, even Ruby, beside Regina but more than a step away, looks apprehensive in the face of the anger being spewed, "make me _care_ for you, and then be so reckless with your fucking life!"

"It's the only way I'll ever see Henry again," Regina reminds Granny, had just told the woman of everything that has led to this, but Granny needs reminding, "I need to do this." Regina will not apologize, she never asked for Granny's care, she feels badly Granny is so obviously upset, but Regina will not apologize.

"Then I'm coming with you," Granny gestures, a harsh finger dug into Regina's shoulder, enough to have Regina take a step back, the motion has Ruby bracing Regina with one hand wrapped around her bicep, helping her stand toe to toe with Granny's wrath.

"Granny," Ruby starts to say, it's clear by her tone that she won't say what really needs to be said here, so Regina cuts her off.

"You are old," Regina says, the truth, and takes no enjoyment out of the way Granny flinches, Roland cannot come, because he is small, because he can't fight, because he is a child and the way Tinkerbelle speaks it is clear that outside this safe haven the world has turned war torn, and Granny cannot come because she is old, "you limp," Regina continues, wants to reach out to Granny, but the rags around her hands are heavy things, she leaves her hands by her sides, useless, her hands are nothing but useless, "you would slow us down."

Granny turns, spins on her heel, and stalks six steps forward, her limp is there for all to see, in the face of the truth Granny doesn't know quite what to do, her inner turmoil clear on her scowling features, Regina doesn't know what to say to help her.

Ruby does, "Granny, I'm going with her, okay?" Ruby smiles, that pretty smile filled with straight white teeth, she steps towards her grandmother, lands a hand on the old woman's shoulder, "I'll keep her safe for you, I promise," Ruby says, and Regina thinks it just words to make Granny feel better, but Ruby turns her eyes to Regina, the jealousy on Ruby's face is as easy to see as Granny's limp, but there is more there than that, and when Ruby repeats it, "I promise," as she looks at Regina, eyes sweeping down to take in the pregnancy bump at Regina's middle, the wolf means what she's saying, it leaves Regina off kilter.

"I can keep my own self safe," Regina gripes, and can only huff and roll her eyes when Granny gives her a skeptical look, Regina has lived all her life without another person protecting her, not her mother, not her weak willed, warm hearted father, not her husband, not Snow, no one, she has lived long without a keeper (but has she lived well? She shakes that thought away.)

"Can I speak to Granny alone, please?" Regina asks.

Ruby harumphs, but she does go, walking away with her long legs petulantly stomping, Regina waits for the young wolf to be well away before holding out towards Granny in her bundled hands a small leather purse, "I need you to keep this safe for me," Regina says.

Granny swallows before she reaches out to take what is being held between them, but it's not till she pulls at the drawstring and looks inside the little bag that a choked gasp escapes her, eyes wide, mouth open, there's horror on her face, "Is this your heart?" she hisses, stepping closer, stepping so close that Regina can see every line on the old woman's face.

Regina nods, "The green witch tried to take it once before," Regina confides, still remembers Rumple's hand inside her chest, scratching at her lungs, grinding against her ribs, an invasion like so many others that Regina had endured, she had survived.

"You would trust me with this?" Granny sounds shocked, her eyes still wide as she hurriedly closes the purse, shoving the bag deep into the pocket of her apron, head spinning as if to search out spies.

"You will keep it safe, I know that," Regina says, and isn't that trust? She trusts this old wolf to hold her heart, trusts her not to crush it.

She trusts Granny to keep the organ, the heart that is decidedly less black than ever before, safe. The trust is not effortless, and what other option does Regina have, but the trust _is_ there.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	44. Chapter 44

Robin no longer needs to scrunch his eyes shut and concentrate to bring his Figment to life, the ghostly hare, the smoky white hare, he needs only call it forth, just a simple thought, and the thing appears before him, staring and staring with large pearly eyes.

Robin crouches, balancing on the balls of his feet as he reaches out to pet the thing softly, little wisps of smoke curling about his fingers, "Hello," he greets, still wary of this thing he can make, this magic that is the easiest for him to control. He is magic, Robin is magic. Robin shakes his head, his hand still gentle with the beast that is only real for as long as Robin wills it so, magic he thinks, and it brings forth the word danger, of prices that cannot be paid. The hare turns its head before loping over to where Regina sits on the ground a bit away, sits while Tinkerbelle chatters behind her and braids Regina's hair for her, Regina can't do it herself, not with her hands still bundled (bundled to keep her own nails from her eyes, this is what magic has done to her, Robin thinks, this is what Emil has done to her-

Emil, the old man who'd died before Robin's very eyes, his last word 'forgive' and then silence from him forevermore, gone behind the deathgate. Forgive? Emil looked with his cloudy eyes pointed over Robin's shoulder and begged, 'forgive', he said, and if Robin knew what he asked forgiveness for he would have snarled in the old man's face. Regina calls it a gift, like Liam and his shadows, or June with her flowers, but the children's gifts don't have them clawing at their eyes in a fever, Robin will remember that night for the rest of his life, the night Emil died and Regina got his _gift_, but _gifts_ don't leave people moaning and screaming as seizures have them in danger of swallowing their tongue.)

The hare lands without weight into Regina's lap, and she smiles softly down at it, lowering her head while ignoring Tinkerbelle telling her to stay still, Regina is whispering to the ghostly thing, she's whispering her message to Roland.

The Figment can travel large distances, can relay a casters messages, Granny had said the morning of their departure, the day Robin left Roland safe and sniffling, the little boy watching and watching from John's arms as his father, and the woman he'd started to call Mama walked away from him, walked from him straight into danger, Granny had pulled Robin aside, the old woman had glared up at him from behind her glasses, "You send that damned thing every day, you hear me? Send it to your boy every day or I'm marching off after you, you son of a bitch." The old woman was snappish, rude, and so filled with anger as she drew Robin down for a burly hug that Robin could do nothing but nod.

"And you keep my idiot girls safe, you keep both those idiot girls safe," Granny whispered into his ear, speaking of Regina, speaking of Ruby, her granddaughter, 'idiot girl' had never sounded so much an endearment before she hissed it out, she patted him on the back, and then pushed him off, he pretended not to see the tears she swiped off her cheeks.

The hare nuzzles up on the underside of Regina's chin before bouncing off, Robin stands as it makes its way back to him, "You tell my boy I love him more than the world," Robin says to it when it sits before him, "That I'm coming back to him soon, his Mama and I both," Mama, the boy calls Regina, and it warms Robin as much as it stabs an icy talon of torment into his heart, the boy has already lost one mother, Robin cannot help thinking, as if the position is somehow cursed, but the boy will not lose another. The boy will not lose another mother.

Robin nods, and the hare stands a moment longer, staring and staring, Robin is uncomfortable under the pearly eyed stare, but then the thing is racing off, white and glowing in the early light of dawn as it weaves through the trees, farther and farther away, faster than any real animal could ever hope to achieve, it's too far in the dense underbrush, too far away, to see only seconds later.

* * *

"We're moving so slowly," Tinkerbelle says, seemingly not to shame, but just in worry, she's biting her lip, gnawing at it, "and we've already wasted so much time."

Robin could say something, could console her, but he's angry at the sprite, angry in a way that eats inside you, he cannot help but blame the fairy for this trip, for the danger that Regina is in, there is no safety here, trekking through the forest, not like in the camp, but it's Regina's son that has them here, not Tinkerbelle.

The boy, all this for the boy, the son Regina thought she'd lost forever.

The anger eats inside him, but that night Regina lays in his arms, he's moving his hand over her belly, could swear the child is kicking but she laughs, a breath of laughter, and tells him it's too early for that.

Robin asks after her boy, asks all about him, and she answers every question, crying at points, like when she describes the boy's first steps, and his first word, 'Mama,' he had said and giggled, she's crying and laughing after she tells Robin of how Henry had won the science fair in second grade, only to have Robin question what exactly a science fair was. She's quiet too, when she speaks of how the boy found out he was not born of her womb, how he had... no longer wanted her, Regina whispers, her jaw trembling.

"I'm sure he loved you, Regina, children don't know how cruel words can be," Robin pushes her hair behind her ear, embraces her, rubs her back and shifts so she is more comfortably sprawled half atop him. "And he will love you again, we will reach him, you've seen it."

With her _gift_, she has seen it, she has seen other things too, futures that aren't so happy, but she shares those with him seldom, he can see the pain in her eyes though, after a night of tormented futures play beneath her sleeping eyes.

She nods, but she is done talking.

Before she falls asleep, she's heavy in his arms, eyes closed, breath even in and out of her nose, Robin kisses the side of her head and tells her how proud he will be to meet her boy and call him his son.

She kisses him sleepily, her eyes barely open, bundled hand around his neck, pulling him in, "Thank you," she whispers to him, breathes it against his lips, "thank you for all this, you could have stayed with Rolan-"

"No," he tells her, holds her tighter, and maybe one day she will understand him, some piece of her will shift and she will believe him, "I couldn't have, Regina, not when our family can be whole, our boys," he tells her, "and our girl," he rubs her belly, the baby _is_ kicking, "we're going to have it all."

Regina shakes her head, overwhelmed with her brows crinkling softly, "I love you so much," Regina says.

"As I love you," Robin grins and pecks her lips again before settling her head down against his shoulder, before the pair fall asleep.

* * *

Ruby's nose tips up, sniffling and sniffling, she's a wolf, Robin reminds himself, he has seen for himself her as the wolf, dark and giant, with eyes that are aware. But it's almost comical at the moment, the way she sniffs the air like a dog on the trail.

"Wait," she says, weight to the word, she holds up a hand, a thin hand, delicate and pale, so at odds with the wolf she is underneath, the wild thing with claws and teeth. Ruby begins to walk sideways from their trail, going into the underbrush, the red cloak about her shoulders never snagging, flowing and billowing, magic crackles on the thing. Magic, Robin thinks. Regina is the first to follow the other woman, her own cloak, it snags on almost everything.

The group follows after, looking at each other questioningly, Tinkerbelle huffs a sigh, "Guys," she calls, but then the stench hits her. The stench of a corpse comes to them as the breeze shifts, and what Ruby had smelled with her wolf senses is suddenly apparent to everyone else.

They walk less then quarter of a mile.

Until they find the body of a man, his face twisted, his last expression, seen even through all the rot that has massacred his face, it's of utmost agony, his insides had been clawed out, left strewn about him. Monkeys did this, the wounds give them away, the witch did this, no animal has come to eat the corpse, it has not been touched at all save the wounds that killed him, and magic crackles here as well.

"Don't touch it," Regina warns, tired and weary, blinking slowly as she turns away.

"We have to bury him," George says, bouncing on his feet, looking at the body of the stranger and back to Regina, to her back as she walks away.

"No," Robin corrects, he pats Farouk on the shoulder when the man goes to follow after Regina as she steps farther away, "we don't."

"It's not right," George goes on, but he doesn't sound so sure, "it's not right to leave him out like this." Aniol wraps an arm around George's shoulder, pulling him softly away.

"There's magic here," Tinkerbelle says, and Robin is so, so glad that she is the one that said it and not him, the blonde fairy, in all her green, she shivers almost violently, "dark magic, Regina is right, we shouldn't touch him. I'm sorry."

The corpse has them all wary, awake long into the night; they'd traveled well into dark, getting as much distance between them and the corpse. Robin holds Regina so close in the night, after she has finally fallen asleep, but the bags under her eyes will look no better come sunrise, they are a permanent fixture on her lovely face now, she wears her tiredness in the slope of her shoulders, in the clumsiness of her steps, Robin holds her so tight in the night that she wakes multiple times and mumbles a soft 'it's alright' that does nothing to reassure him.

(Robin is so, so afraid, and if he were to think on it he'd realize that this fear had taken root the day Roland came crying to him with snot covering his face, the day the boy saw Regina fall to the infection she'd let fester on her arm, it all seems so long ago, only seems that way, the fear cut him deep as he skidded to a stop in the castle corridor, staring with wide eyes at a puddle of black silk, black hair, and jumbled limbs, and the fear has only grown, festering as well as the infection in her arm had.)

He wakes from a nightmare near sunrise, a nightmare of a lake of blood under Regina, she's pregnant and dead in a lake of blood, a booming laugh in Robin's ears as he tries to stay afloat in Regina's blood, it's Tom's laugh, Tuck's brother, who had tried to take Regina, take her life, so long ago, it only seems so long ago, he had killed Regina, but the booming laughter turns into a cackle, the cackle of the witch and her voice rings in his ears, 'oh no dear, will a kiss wake her from this?' she cackles and cackles and Regina, swollen with pregnancy, she sinks down into the blood. Robin wakes up, he'd let out a shout, he thinks as he sits up panting, Regina's there to calm him immediately, "What is it?" she asks, hands running over him, as if to check him for injury.

Robin grabs her, pulls her into his lap and holds her, soothes himself with the feeling of her warm skin, of the breath that sweeps across his neck and jaw, she whispers calming things to him that he does not hear.

* * *

A trio of horses are down in the valley, a chocolate mare, a huge white gelding, and the mean, muscled, and scared form of a stallion, the stallion stomps and stomps at the ground, huge dark eyes glaring and glaring, looking up at the crest of the hill, looking straight at_ Regina_, but that is silly, Robin thinks, it's silly but it's true.

"I cannot believe it," Robin breathes into the wind with a shake of his head, "our horses," the mean dark stallion, the beast that had thrown Regina ages and ages ago, thrown her and run, the sweet mare and the gelding that they'd left behind escaping the trap the witch had laid, Robin and Regina and David, so long ago it seems forever, they'd escaped in a puff of smoke, landed in the iron stained water of the weeping, leaving the horses behind. But all three mounts are down in the valley, together, right there, all three together, it is madness.

A hint of a smile plays on his lips, he shakes his head again and wraps his arm around Regina's waist, pulling her in closer to his side as he looks down into the grey valley, the muddy valley that runs and rolls into knolls for miles and miles. Their path, the path the fairy, the wolf, and half of Robin's men, and Regina, her bundled hands covered in mud from two nasty falls that had her among the roots, the path the group will take has them curving along the edge of the knolls for two days, two more days and they will arrive to Snow White's camp, no more roots to trip over, but they will be visible from the air, no cover without the trees. Tinkerbelle says she can hide them though, hide their presence from any monkey flying above, Robin must take solace in that fact, must trust that what the sprite says is true.

Regina is leaning against Robin's side, breathing heavier then she should, someone has tied her hair back, Tinkerbelle, she is getting better and better at the braids, Regina smiles more freely at the fairy now, always thanks her for the aid. A soft smile grows on Regina's face now, amused, just a tip of her lips up before she wiggles free from his arms, Regina turns to Arthur.

"Is this a trick?" Robin asks, but he sees no magic here, now that he knows what it looks like, what it _feels_ like, and he can sense nothing here. "They would not have remained together."

Regina shakes her head, "Bring the rope," she says, canting her head to indicate the thick rope around Arthur's shoulder. Regina heads down into the valley after slipping her pack off and to Farouk, handing it off with a word of thanks before she's headed down the gentle slope, she's wet with the drizzle of rain immediately once she's out of the shelter of the tree canopy, her hair curling tightly from where it's fallen loose of Tink's braid.

"Be careful, Regina," Robin sends after her, he knows without being told (he knows from somewhere inside him, some half of him that has been _her_ always, he did not know it, but it is her, inside him, a part of him), Robin knows she means to bring the horses back into the fold.

Regina sends him a smile over her shoulder, it's such a simple thing, that warm smile, that reassurance, but it eases the knot in Robin's guts, the hot fission of terror at the sight of her walking away from him, not even twenty feet away and already his heart is pounding, it eases at her smile (but it's not gone, his terror is never gone).

Arthur follows after her, clumsy down the muddy slope, clumsy where she is graceful, her arms up to balance her as each step has her faster, until she's pelting and running and sliding, her hair in the braid trailing behind her, 'be careful,' Robin wants to repeat, but won't, because she is not a child to be warned and scolded, and she looks free and filled with life as she reaches the bottom and skids in the mud, a huff of breath that may have been some form of strangled laughter comes from her, barely heard where Robin has remained on the crest above the shallow valley, remained with his back among the trees. They'll make camp up here, one more night in the camouflage of the trees before they trek out come sunrise.

"Regina!" Ruby calls, she makes to follow the two already down the slope, but Robin holds out a hand to stop her.

"Let them be," he says, not an order, that sort of smile still on his face as Arthur doesn't catch himself nearly as well as Regina at the bottom of the hill, he falls to one knee in the mud, laughing, the boy is laughing. It rings around the valley, Regina's tinkling laughter following moments later, light and lovely, more girlish then Robin would have ever thought, it still surprises him, how delighted she can sound in unguarded moments.

Arthur and Regina return up the slope hours later, night has fallen, covered in mud, stumbling for how tired they are, but Arthur leads the mare and the gelding, he's smiling, his teeth shockingly white against the mud drying on his face, Regina leads the stallion, the mean stallion, the beast that had thrown her, she leads him and ties him to a thick trunk, patting his neck softly, whispering into the beasts ear.

Pride swells in Robin, looking at her covered in mud from tip to toe, he goes and to her and snatches her right up into his arms, clasps her around the waist, ignoring her cries that she's covered in mud, that he's getting it on him, he gazes up at her as her toes barely touch the ground, as she wraps her arms around his neck with a sigh.

"You fool," Regina calls him before she kisses him, a shallow thing, before she squirms and wiggles until he has to drop her softly back down.

* * *

"I love you, my boy," Robin tells the hare, tells the hare so that the hare might pass on the message, "I'm taking good care of Regina, I promise, nothing will happen to her nor to me. Be good for John, be good and kind and brave, my boy." Robin pets the hare softly, the wisps of smoke curling and curling about his gentle fingers, "Your sister has begun to kick," he says, smiling and turning to look at Regina, look at her as she sits with George and Aniol, "she'll be a fighter just like you."

The hare dashes off after it's sure Robin is done speaking, Regina already having said her own message, it lopes and lopes, blurring with its speed as it rushes up and over soft slopes, its ghostly paws never quite touching the mud.

* * *

"Regina," Robin says, Tinkerbelle says they are half a day away from Snow's camp, the camp that is actually an abandoned manor, some Lord or other who had survived the castle's destruction had led them there, more survivors then seems plausible, especially all living together still. Robin and Regina's camp, their camp of casters, was tiny in comparison, Tinkerbelle says, and unease grows in Robin's gut, surely the witch is not as blind as that, not to see such a sprawling refuge, especially as the place has no shadow master to hide them.

"This is a trap," Regina tells him, she doesn't sound concerned, tired, she sounds tired, Robin tried to have her ride, they have three mounts thanks to her own efforts but she'd refused, she does not stop walking, her bundled hands swaying with her strides, he doesn't know why she will not ride, and she will not tell him. Got stubborn and obstinate after he'd insisted.

Robin reaches forward and snares her wrist gently, turns her slowly, the group walks forward ahead of them. "We can turn away," Robin tells her, but knows it will not dissuade her. Her visions tell her this is the way to Henry; there is no dissuading her from this path.

bundled hands, those stained rags, they come up between them, she wants to caress his face, Robin knows, and still she forgets that she can't, she sighs, lands her forehead on his instead, standing on tiptoes in her boots to do so. Silence, she's breathing softly, her eyes squeeze shut as Robin wraps his arms around her, "I can't turn away, Robin, Henry-"

"I know," Robin sighs, "I know," snags a hand in her hair, fisting it, not pulling, but holding, grounding her to him as the group walks on, only Farouk turns to glance at them before turning back to his path. "I'm so afraid," Robin finally caves and says, he's tried to keep his fear from her, but he failed, and he knows that as soon as she a sound of sympathy and hugs around his neck tighter, kissing his neck with wet kisses. "Every day, every moment, I don't know what to do with all this fear, it has me in a chokehold, Regina."

"I," but she stutters, what is there to say? He does not want her to apologize, because she is the light of his life, his life and his love, he is so afraid _because_ he loves her so much. He couldn't live without her.

"I will be beside you always," Robin tells her, and he means inside Snow's camp, among the people that tried to burn July, who broke June's fingers, who nearly killed both Robin and Regina, there is danger inside and out where they are going, but Robin means forever too, beyond today, beyond next year, soul mates, he thinks, and knows that means forever.

* * *

They meet the first sentry, and that is when Robin can see that it is fully realizing in Regina's head, the truth that she will have to face Snow.

Regina has not spoken of it to him. But she will now, as he asks, "Are you ready?" tucks hair behind her ear as they walk, she nods.

"If she tries hugs me I will hack off her arms," Regina says, there's a waver to her voice.

"I shant even stop you," Robin smiles, rubs his hand down her back.

* * *

**authors note, okay guys we are getting into the action here.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	45. Chapter 45

The manor is old, covered in ivy, one stone wall crumbling, it's giant, huge and sprawling, when in its prime, before the curse, it was an estate worthy of great Lord; Regina has been here once before.

The tents that decorate the courtyard are just as ramshackle as the manor.

And Snow is fat.

Snow is fat and glowing.

Beautiful, Regina watches Snow approach; she's waddling a path through the tents, people part for her, she's heavy with child in a way she never had been while carrying Emma, not even at the very end (Regina had watched through her mirrors, madness and rage only growing as Snow's daughter grew and grew, healthy and strong in Snow's womb). Carrying her son has made her fat.

Ruby had run ahead of the group, she walks next to Snow now, apparently as shocked at Snow's size as Regina, the wolf can't keep her hands off the huge belly, her mouth a shocked 'o' whenever it's not moving with words.

"Regina!" Snow calls, smiling and looking happy and free, wearing white that is still bright and clean and lovely though there is mud on the ground, mud seeping through gaps in the courtyard stones, mud that Regina's boots sink into when her steps stutter to a lurching stop. She's frozen, watching Snow approach.

Snow is glowing, Snow's steps hitch, waddling faster, Ruby snickers, letting Snow draw ahead of her, laughing at her huge friend waddling and waddling, Snow can only be a month or so farther along in her pregnancy than Regina is, and she is fat. Healthy and fat, glowing, happy, and how can she be so happy, how? Snow had lost Emma, as Regina had lost Henry, and even still, with another child growing in Regina's belly, she feels the loss of Henry so keenly that she could crumble and fall right here, could let all her troubles, all the darkness, pull her down.

"Look at you," Snow gasps, close enough to see Regina clearly, to see the belly that swells out under the layers Regina wears, smaller then Snow's belly, but irrevocably there, plain for all to see, and they have gawked, strangers and vaguely remembered faces, gawking and whispering behind cupped hands, hushed voices and poorly hidden pointing since the moment Regina and her group entered the camp. "Ohh," Snow breathes, stepping before Regina and gazing at Regina like she desperately wants to hug, but the girl knows better, "Regina, you're pregnant," Snow says with a dazed shake of her head, "You look so beautiful," and she sounds as if she might cry.

A scoff almost works its way past Regina's lips before she stomps it down, but she can't stop the eye roll Snow's ridiculous words inspire. Beautiful? Regina has become haggard. Regina is not blind, can see into a mirror, or lately puddles, quite easily, she is skin and bones, sickly thin looking, but for the protruding belly that curves out. Granny had been plying Regina with food before this journey to help Snow, to reach Henry, had separated them, the old woman had grabbed at Regina's shoulder when they parted and shook her as she instructed her to eat, and eat, and eat, 'fatten up, girl,' Granny had told her, 'it's not just you anymore, it's that pup in your belly, you eat for her, you hear me?'

Robin lands a hand on Regina's back, warm and comforting, Snow's eyes jump to him, her smile growing, "Congratulations, Robin," tears a blink away from falling in her lovely light eyes, as if Regina's baby is some miracle that will fix the world, and Regina almost scoffs again.

His hand is steady at the base of her spine, "And you as well," he says lightly, corners of his eyes crinkling as he motions towards Snow's own pregnancy. "But forgive me, the journey was long," Robin's hand moves up Regina's spine, soothing and reassuring, his touch isn't enough to relax her, not completely, not when surrounded by people that glare, that look at her belly like the spawn of Satan is growing there, but she appreciates the motion anyway, appreciates _him_, appreciates him more then she can ever say. Regina leans back into his touch, into his side, her shoulder resting against his ribs.

"Oh," Snow smiles, nods, "yes, of course, there are rooms for you and your men inside."

Snow shows them to the dilapidated wing of the manor, climbing the stairs while huffing and puffing, Ruby laughing next to her, she doesn't say the word 'fat', but it's clearly on her mind as she watches her huge friend. When they reach the hall Snow intends for them to stay in, Snow frowns, the crumbling stone wall lets in a draft, Snow looks down at Regina's belly for a moment, apologizes, says this is the last they can spare, and she's so sorry. Regina waves her off. It's only then that Snow seems to see the rags covering Regina's hands; she mistakes them for bandages, gasps and reaches forward, grabbing at Regina's hands and pulling them closer to look at them.

"What happened?" Snow asks, looking to Regina, looking down at her, Snow is taller than Regina, taller and as she draws Regina in another step Regina becomes aware of how much she has to tilt her head to look Snow in the eye.

Regina tears her hands from Snow's grasp, not a word leaving her lips, is now the time to tell the girl that Regina is all but useless? That her magic has left her, both purple and dark magic, and the new bright white magic, both have left her? And now all that remains is a gift she never wanted, a gift that has nightmares and visions of futures playing in her mind as she tries to sleep at night, visions of death more often than visions of happiness. Would Snow be so happy to see her then? If she knew Regina is no help at all?

As Regina opens her mouth, Robin raises his hands to Regina's shoulders, guides her to the nearest room, calling over his shoulder to a still concerned looking Snow that in the morning they'll discuss all that needs discussing.

He snares her in a hug as soon as the hardwood door shuts behind them, the room dark all around them, dark and dusty, unused and forgotten, Robin wraps his arms around her and holds her, he's warm and strong, and she wraps her arms around him in return. She rests her face against his chest, breaths the smell of him in and hears through the door as the rest of the men clomp their way to their own rooms, as Ruby and Snow converse and walk away, their footfalls unheard due to the thick and ancient rugs in the hall, but their voices grow quieter and quieter the farther they get, until their voices are gone.

Robin's chest vibrates against her ear, his laughter breezing across the top of her head, "My god, she's as big as a whale, is she not?"

Regina snorts, digs her face in further against him, a knot of tension, of complicated and bitter resentment uncoiling at his words, at his laughter as he threads his fingers through her hair, smoothing it over and over from the base of her skull to the tips of the strands, "Did you see her waddling?" Regina tells him.

He chuckles once more, she feels him land a kiss at the top of her head, "She was right, you know."

Regina draws back, head tilted, eyes questioning.

"You are beautiful," Robin smiles, a grin of contentment as he squeezes her, kisses her quickly as the scoff she's been holding in finally lets loose from her lips, before he lets her go. He walks into the dark room.

"And you are a fool," she tells him, shaking her head and rolling her eyes, walking to the side, to a table covered in dust, the whole room is covered in dust, unused and empty even before the curse first struck, more than thirty years left empty. She picks up a rose colored vase, plucking dried and brittle old flowers from its stem, they crumble at her touch.

"King Leopold brought me here once, to this estate," Regina tells him, shrugging and placing the dusty vase back down upon the table; it clunks upon the surface, accidently slipping from her grasp in the last moment, her clumsy hands, bundled and useless.

He makes a noise of encouragement, an entreaty to keep talking as he walks deep into the shadowed room, walking through stark streaks of sunlight filtering through the moth eaten drapes, the drapes he flings back, plumes of ancient dust and dirt and god knows what else escaping into the air. The orange rays of sunset wash the room, orange and red, and absolutely filthy.

"We spent a summer here," Regina coughs, waves a hand to clear the air and sits on the hard backed chair, tired, she's so tired, wants nothing more than to throw herself on the huge bed, heedless of dust, of dirt, "it was after," Regina shakes her head, frowning, "I lost the last baby…"

Robin turns to look at her, standing in sunlight, looking golden and handsome, alive and strong in this dusty old room. "He brought you here to make you feel better?"

Regina hums, licks her lips, "I suppose so," she answers, unfastening her cloak, a fumbled affair that takes longer then it should.

"Regina-"

"He was afraid for me, he said," Regina snorts out a laugh, bitter, remembering Leopold holding her hands, as if he loved her, as if he cared for her, speaking to her softly, telling her of an estate by the sea, Regina shrugs and looks away from Robin, shining there, he's pure and good and strong, she has to look away from him, "There had been an accident, and he brought me here to recuperate."

"An accident," Robin echoes, breathes out, his boots thudding across the wood floor as he approaches the table, "of what nature?"

She had tripped down a staircase, fell and fell, and lay at the bottom there until a maid had found her in a puddle of blood from a head wound at the back of her head, her chiffon dress ruined, covered in blood. She had fallen, an accident, but the healers shook their heads, spoke of suicide in hushed whispers, of an _almost_ mother's grief, right into the King's ear and he had heard them and looked worried, concerned, as if he cared for her. "It doesn't matter," Regina says, standing and trying to walk away from Robin, but he cups her face, forces her to stand with him, to look at him.

He just has to look at her, and she finds herself squirming, unwilling to step away from him, but uncomfortable with him looking at her, looking at her as they stand so close, looking at her like he can see right into her soul, "Please," he says, landing his forehead against hers, his eyes slipping closed, and his touch is such comfort, she sighs and is once more wrapped up in his arms, like it is the most natural thing in all the worlds.

"I fell," Regina answers him, her own eyes closed, "down a stairwell, lay there for hours until a servant found me."

"You were grievously injured?" his hold tightens at the base of her skull, tugging almost painfully on her hair.

"A head wound," she answers with another shrug, "but no, I recovered fairly quickly."

"It was an accident?"

Regina's chest tightens, "yes," she tells him, fists his tunic in her covered hands, and knows he's thinking of the sleeping potion, of the infection in her arm, knows he's thinking of them, because she's thinking of them too.

"I could not live without you," Robin says, quiet, urgently, "do you understand that? Well and truly, do you understand?"

"Yes," Regina answers, shaking her head, dislodging his forehead from hers, opening her eyes and finding him looking at her intently.

He just stares at her, cups her face, and kisses her, a punishing kiss, he bends her head back, it's all tongue, wet and heavy, she's forced back a step, crashing into the table, the glass vase knocks over, rolls to the edge and shatters on the floor, "Robin," Regina says, moving her lips from his, tilting her head up when his mouth moves to her neck, biting her there, she gasps, her back arching, "Robin, stop," she says.

Robin stills immediately, resting his head in the crook of her neck, breathing heavily, Regina pets his hair, kisses by his ear, "I love you," she tells him, still feels so vulnerable whenever the words leave her lips, because love has never been kind to her, and even now her mother's words echo in her mind 'love is weakness', her mother says.

"I love you too," he answers, he steps away from her again, leaves her stumbling against the table with the sudden lack of his arms around her, "now," he clears his throat, claps his hands together, "I want this room spotless for you, tell me how to do it."

Regina lets out a breath, "You've never cleaned before?" she asks, knowing that's not the truth of it.

He tsks his tongue, "With magic, m'lady, teach me how to make it so," he corrects her.

She does so, tells him magic is emotion, tells him to focus on why he wants the thing done, and he takes it a step farther, his accented voice lilting over his words as he says how he wants the bed soft and clean, comfortable and warm for her, for the baby inside her, wants the air clear, wants the dust gone, for her, wants it spotless for her, wants it safe for her, wants the best of everything, for her, for the baby that is theirs. As he speaks, his magic prickles into the air, hesitant at first, unused, unknown for so long, but as he speaks and speaks it grows, visible in the air as it seeps around the room, it's white, his magic is white and it seems to surprise him for a moment before he continues to speak.

And when he is done Regina is nearly in tears, his care, his love, evident in the now clean room around them, clean, the bed with fresh linen, the ancient rugs now bright, the drapes whole, no moth eaten holes to let in the fading sunlight, even the rose colored vase is whole and unbroken, sitting upon the spotless table that gleams.

She wakes up screaming hours later, a vision of Robin dead, the first time she has seen him in any future, and he is dead, broken, and bleeding, she wakes up screaming, scrabbling at him, scaring him when she starts to blubber and claw at him in an effort to make sure he is where he belongs, where he belongs, right next to her.

"shhh," he tells her, holding her, sitting up and cradling her in his lap, "I'm here, I'm right here. Tell me what's wrong."

But she can't, she doesn't, shakes her head and falls back to sleep a while later still covered in snot and tears, too warm in his arms, but unwilling to move.

* * *

When she wakes up, this time in the morning, the day is grey outside the windows, not even past sunrise, he's staring down at her, "Is it too early to send the hare?" she asks.

He looks out the windows, "Roland is an early riser," Robin shares with her, the hare manifesting at Regina's side, smoky, pearly, ethereal and beautiful, it's nose titters, it nudges at Regina's elbow until she lifts it enough for the hare to sneak under her arm, to nose against her ribs, before curling against her. Robin scoffs, it sounds strained, fake almost, his eyes dig into her with concern even as he tries to lighten the bleak air around them, remnants of her nightmare tainting the morning, "One would think it would like me better then you, seeing as I'm its caster," he says.

She smiles, petting the hare, "Good morning, Roland," she says, the hare's ear twitch, huge pearly eyes, white and large, round with no pupil pointing up to Regina's face, to her voice, "I love you, your Papa and I are safe, he's taking good care of me. You're being a good boy for Little John, aren't you? Of course you are." She sighs, snuggles closer to Robin, the hare nudging her hand with his nose, begging for more pets as he waits for more to relay to Roland. "You're my brave knight, Roland, I love you."

Robin's own message is much the same, and when he's done the hare takes a second longer to nuzzle against Regina, it takes a somewhat rude poke from Robin to get the thing to leave her side, to leave the warm bed it seems to want to snuggle in, it glares at Robin before jumping, leaping through the air, it's feet bouncing against nothing at all as it jumps, it disappears through the solid wall, Regina can see it for a moment through the window, pearly, far in the distance in just moments.

Robin grumbles that it's far too early for anything else, easing her head down onto his shoulder, her leg drapes over his easily.

* * *

Regina finds the kitchen easily, Robin's hand in hers as he trails after her, content with the piece of jerky that George had handed to him, calling it breakfast. Even the smell of the jerky is enough to have Regina's stomach roiling; she's off to find something a bit more bland for her morning meal.

There's a clatter as she enters the kitchen, letting Robin's hand drop from hers as she crosses the threshold, the people stop for a second, share glances, before going on about their work. Grumpy walks towards her, he'd been with two of his brothers by a boiling pot, but he comes towards her.

"You couldn't magic yourself a condom? Jesus, lady," Grumpy growls, a smile hidden under his beard, he laughs at the heated glare Robin sends his way, but Regina finds herself smiling.

Grumpy pushes a mug into her hands, tea that smells strong, smells of ginger and lemon, "What's this?" she asks, sniffing it, suspicion a hard thing to let go of, even if she's starting to think Grumpy quite likes her.

"What the fuck do you think it is?" he barks, "It's tea, now come on, I know you can cook, help us with this porridge," he nudges at her elbow, towards the boiling pot.

* * *

Blue's head tilts, her eyes trained on the bump before they do a slow crawl up Regina's form, finally to look at her face, "Your Majesty," she says, "congratulations."

Regina wants the sprite to choke on her own words, their falseness rings in her ears, Regina's bound hands come up over her belly, a move to protect her child that is so instinctual that she doesn't even notice she's done it until Blue's eyes flicker down and up again.

"And here is the father?" Blue asks, looking to Robin, he's frowning back at her.

"Yes," he answers though, bites it out, no doubt angry that the question was even asked, insulted that the blue bitch could assume anyone else could be the father. His hand is positively possessive, but protective too, as he puts it over one of Regina's, over her belly, an intimate move that soothes Regina, the muscles in her back unclenching, around his wrist is the Bonder, the red ribbon, he wears it on his left wrist. Blue raises an eyebrow at it, frowning for just a second before she shakes the expression away.

And then Blue smiles, as if she can't read the tension in this encounter, but Snow is frowning, watching with narrowed eyes, gaze going from Blue to Regina and back again, "Blue," she says, a hand drawing the fairy away, "I'll speak to you aft-"

Robin steps away from Regina's side, "no," he says, cutting Snow off, broad and tall, strong, he stands before Regina, looking down at the fairy, at the creature that stinks of dank water, of decay, the creature that is scales under the pretty mask she wears, "I believe things need be said here," Regina reaches for his back, spreads her fingers under his shoulder blades.

"Robin," Snow says, placating, but he shakes his head.

"I would have answers," he says, his head tilts to the side, "am I the only one to remember the dark magic this fairy gave you, Snow?"

The hourglass, the one that had ripped Regina's mind apart, laid bare all her worst memories to Snow White, dark magic, and Snow swore the fairy had given it to her, as if that made it alright. But it was dark magic, and Regina shudders as she remembers the agony of her mind being violated.

Snow dances from one fat foot to the other, looking suddenly guilty, shifty eyes quick to Regina before she flicks her gaze away.

Guilty, the girl looks guilty, and good. She'd taken that which she had no right too, her father's daughter after all, he'd taken everything of the young girl Regina had been, taken and taken, left a shell of a shattered person, and Snow had grown and watched, ignorant and selfish, a royal child with rose colored glasses, but in the end she was just like her father, taking and taking.

An explanation had never been offered, of how exactly Snow found Regina bleeding and alone, vulnerable, in Leopold's old chambers, Regina had transported her self there in a panic, and blacked out, and Snow had found her there, found her there and used dark magic to tear into her memories.

Snow may look guilty, but Blue decidedly does not. The fairy, the sharp faced woman who is not a woman at all, her smile slips from her face, her eyes wide and cold, "Surely you are mistaken," she says, as if Robin is being dense, "the Fae do not deal with dark magic, the implement I gave Snow White-"

"You dare say it was not dark?" Regina steps around Robin, her bundled fingers still over her belly, sweating digits under the rags digging into the hardness of her pregnancy, to make sure her daughter is still there, as if in response the baby kicks against Regina's palm. "It tore into my mind, dug out my worst memories for her to see and you say that is not dark?"

Blue looks as if to be fighting off a roll of her eyes, "The implement I gave Snow was only a tool, nothing more, it did only what she wanted."

Regina has to blink at that, has to take a mental step back as she realizes the Blue Fairy has just thrown Snow under the bus.

Snow looks almost as confused as Regina, "Blue, what are you saying? I didn't want tha-"

"Do you remember what you asked the hourglass?" Blue says, patiently, she's always so kind to Snow, since the girl was a child, so kind to Snow, and so withering to Regina, since the first moment the fairy met Regina, Regina was sixteen, pregnant with her first child, stuck with Leopold's grip on her wrist as he introduced the fairy to his young wife and asked her blessing for the baby his child bride was expecting.

"I asked if she ever loved me," Snow admits, mumbling, her own hands fidgeting around her own belly, and where is David, Regina suddenly thinks. He is not next to his wife, is not offering her simpering assurances to her goodness, and without him the girl is starting to see what an awful and selfish person she is, at least that is what Regina is hoping, watching as Snow moves her shoulders, rolling them in an almost shrug.

"Love," Blue repeats, "but you told me you would ask if she intended to aid her sister, did you not?"

Snow mumbles, nods, looks up at Blue.

"You should have told me the truth, Princess," Blue admonishes softly, as if no one got hurt, as if Regina had not been violated and torn apart, her mind still raw from the encounter. "When love and magic mix, the results are unpredictable," the fairy goes on, "if I had known what you truly wanted to ask, I would never have given you the hourglass, you turned it dark when the word love left your lips."

"I'm so sorry, Regina," Snow breathes, makes as if to touch her.

"ugh," Regina steps back, stumbles into Robin as she evades Snow's caring hand, "you think your alleged ignorance makes you innocent?" she spits at the fairy, her breath heavy through her mouth, her head shaking, "and you," she looks to Snow, who looks so apologetic, but all she gives is words, an apology should be more then words, "you," Regina stutters, glad when Robin lands a hand at her hip, strength surging from the touch, "you say you are sorry, but you drag me back here, for what?"

"You must fight the witch-"

"I can't," Regina says.

The Blue Fairy inclines her head, Snow squints a confused eye, "What do you mean?" Snow asks, "Regina, she ravages the land, her monkey's kill any they happen upon, we need y-"

"No," Regina barks, "I mean I _can't._"

* * *

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	46. Chapter 46

_"Love," a woman's voice says, a sharp voice, "but you told me you would ask if she intended to aid her sister, did you not?"_

Robin is caught, he knows this is not real, is a dream, but the voice that is sharp and sugary, he does not trust the voice at all, it continues as Robin struggles to wake, to move.

_"You should have told me the truth, Princess, when love and magic mix, the results are unpredictable, if I had known what you truly wanted to ask, I would never have given you the hourglass, you turned it dark when the word love left your lips."_

_T_he hourglass, the word has a flashing behind Robin's flickering closed eyelids, across his dreaming mind is a glowing red hourglass, and two women with blurry features laying upon a dusty floor, each with dark, dark hair, laying with their hair behind their heads in the dust. One of the women has blood on her face, that woman is special to him, that woman has him nearly crying out, but another voice comes, vague and stirring softly like wind in the early morning.

_"I'm so sorry, Regina" the new voice says, a soft voice._

Regina, Robin thinks, Regina, an tickling sensation at the back of his throat, the name means something to him, Regina, he thinks, he needs her, where is she, Regina where-

_"ugh, you think your ignorance makes you innocent?" _

Her voice, a gasp leaves Robin, his mind beginning to stir, he feels the warmth of his blankets now, but he claws at the dream, fights to hear more,

_ "and you, you, you say you are sorry, but you drag me back here, for what?"_

_His hand upon her waist, _

his fingers twitch in response, and find nothing there, no warm body to reassure, nothing but the edge of his blanket.

He's waking, he does not want to.

_"You must fight the witch-"_

_"I can't," Regina says._

_"What do you mean? Regina, she ravages the land, her monkey's kill any they happen upon, we need y-"_

_"No, I mean I can't."_

_"Your Majesty," that sharp voice says,_

_"Regina, what do you mean?" the soft voice says,_

Robin wakes with a gasp, his eyes opening as he gulps. His world is spinning, disorientation has him gasping.

The tent around him is unfamiliar.

It is strange, made of a material that is clearly not canvas, and when Robin moves, his arm finding Roland sleeping beside him, the material of the bedroll is strange as well, shiny, crinkly, offering more warmth then something so light should be able.

But Roland sleeps beside him; his little body snuggled against Robin's side. Robin takes a moment to hug the boy, even as his inhibiting confusion and terrible disorientation nearly has him crying, he's gasping, trying to take the jumble of his brain and piece it back together to something coherent.

His pulse is nearly calm when the flap to his strange tent is, well opened, a strange metal seam unfusing with a shinking sound he's never encountered in his life, his grip on Roland tightens, but it's John's confused face that he sees after the flap is pulled outward, more a flexible door then a flap.

"Robin," the huge man hisses, relief washing over his features as his eyes find Robin, "best if you see this for yourself."

Seeing his friends face, his best friends face, is more calming then Robin would ever admit. As he rises, leaving the boy sleeping, he notices his clothes are strange as well, even down to his socks, they are strange, he stumbles out the little oval door of his tent, out into open air that does not smell as it should. The forest is not _their_ forest. Unfamiliar and sparse when compared to Sherwood or the Enchanted, this forest is unlike any other Robin has ever stepped upon.

His men are there, most of them, his Merry Men, milling about with concern and poorly hidden fright on their faces, George wringing his hands,

Tuck comes from around another tent, "I can't find Tom," he says, worried voice.

Sharp and sudden, twisting in Robin's gut, is guilt, he doesn't know why, he nearly buckles, as Tuck asks the group as a whole if they have seen his brother, Robin nearly gasps, every Merry man shakes their heads.

"Robin," John says, laying a hand on Robin's shoulder, "Where in seven hells are we?"

No one knows.

No one can remember.

Things are a blur.

Robin thinks the last he can remember is a hunting trip, a successful one that saw him and Farouk dragging four turkeys back to camp. When was that though, Robin does not know, everyone remembers a different day, and the rest is a blur.

The confusion, the fear, only grows worse when Roland wakes, rubbing at his eyes and yawning, when he exits the tent, everyone can see that the boy is taller then he should be, has grown, more a child then a toddler, and that is not right, that's not right, Robin holds Roland to him, eyes wide as he finds the boy heavier then he should be, as he finds the boy harder to lift.

"Papa," the boy says, squirming, when he fights to be put down Robin obliges, the boy takes one look at the distraught look on his father's face and frowns, "Papa, what's wrong?"

Roland looks around, seems to notice the strange tents, their structure strange, their colors strange, he frowns deeper, his brow crumpling down, "What happened?"

Robin has no answer for him, but the boy does not wait for him, another question rushing forth.

"Papa, where's Mama?" the boy asks, his face twisting up, his head tilting, as if he can't even decipher what he'd just said. But his panic only grows after repeating the question.

Robin falls to his knees before his child, grabs at flailing hands.

Roland shakes his head, the rest of him has changed, has grown, but that mop of curls is exactly as it should be, his curls fly as he shakes his head, "Where's Mama?" he questions again, near crying, his breaths quick and unsteady. He looks ready to cry.

Robin thinks he might cry as well, "Roland," Robin sighs, and he thinks to tell the boy that Mama is in heaven, remember? But something stops him, his dream in his mind, _Regina_, a soft voice had said, and the woman with dark hair and a face he could not see, and under his hand he thinks he feels warm skin, taut skin with a life growing under it, the life kicking at his palm and the light chuckle of a woman that sends his heart a flutter, he thinks he sees dark eyes-

Dark eyes that are not Marian's eyes.

"Where is she?! Papa, find her," Roland tears one hand from Robin's grip, pushes at his shoulder. "I, I know you can, I," he shakes his head again, tears falling from his eyes.

"What," Robin tries to sooth Roland, tries once more to grab the little boy's hands, it's only then that his confused mind, still so fuzzy, still so lost, it's only then that he sees the blood red ribbon wrapped around his wrist, tied there tightly, a Bonder.

Robin's eyes widen, his hand stills, inches from Roland's shoulder.

There is no woman to have given it to him, no, there is no woman –_Regina_\- why does have it? What's happening, why-

The thing, as if it had waited until Robin was watching, the Bonder thrums, glows brighter, the golden stitching flashing, and searing up Robin's arm is delirious and tired agony, the kind that comes right before you succumb to an injury trying to drag you into unconsciousness. Panic inside him, already quite high, climbs up and up, and he thinks of long dark hair, of large dark eyes, and under his palm is warm skin, a pregnant belly that is not Marian's from so long ago.

Robin thinks he might faint. Or vomit.

"I can't remember!" the boy screams, pushing against Robin's shoulder so hard that Robin lands on his ass, "I can't remember Mama, why can't I-"

"ROBIN!" Walter's voice cuts through everything else; it's an urgent call from far away, it has Robin jumping up, his head spinning, until it comes again, a thundering yell, "Anybody! Help me!"

Robin takes one look at his distraught son, and motions for John to go, to find Walter, John nods and runs, five other men following after him. The Bonder burns on Robin's wrist as Roland pushes past Robin and his consoling arms, running and running after John, tears still streaming down his face.

Robin has no choice to follow after his son, rushing through the unfamiliar terrain, he wears nothing on his feet but socks, and every running step against the harsh forest floor is uncomfortable, "Roland!" he yells, but the boy does not stop until he makes it to a clearing, six minutes running, Roland freezes at the edge of the clearing the other men have congregated in the middle of.

Dread washes over Robin, he stops beside Roland, eyes fixed at his men, as they crouch and dance around the center of the clearing, until John turns, and behind him Robin can see a body splayed on the ground, a woman with dark hair and a blood red cloak thrown about her shoulders.

Robin's feet move without thought, carrying him forward step by lurching step. John calls his name, moves once more, and more of the woman can be seen.

His men are speaking, but it's just noise to him as he looks at her. He wonders if he is once more dreaming.

She is pregnant, heavily so. Unmoving and laying upon the forest floor, she is pregnant.

Robin's mouth opens, fearing the worst as he comes to the woman and falls to his knees beside her, looking at her face, at her long, long dark hair, at the dark eyelashes resting against her cheek.

"It's the Evil Queen," John says, his voice cutting through the fog, even as Robin is holding a hand out to cup the woman's cheek, her skin is cold.

"Does anyone see an injury?" Robin asks, eyes scanning down her form, his hand going from her cheek down to her belly, she is heavily, heavily pregnant, and under Robin's hand he feels what he thinks is an elbow or a knee pressing against his palm, the baby is moving, is alive, some awful tension in his chest unclenches, the baby is alive.

A chorus of no's echoes in the clearing, no injury is easily seen, but that does not mean there is not one, Robin is afraid to move her, his hand stays on her belly, over the silky feel of her dress, some foreign thought comes to Robin, the thought that she is not dressed how she should be, her dress, her cloak, they do not fit in this world he has awoken in, her clothes do not match his, nor his men's.

"What do we do?" Arthur asks, crouched on her other side, Farouk frowning next to him, Farouk reaches forward and pets hair off her forehead.

"She needs help," Walter says.

"Has no one understood me?" John says, standing above them, his hands open, "Tis the Evil Queen that lies at our feet."

"And what?" Robin barks, eyes sharp as daggers pointing up to John, John takes a step back, "You would have us leave her here? Leave her here alone, unconscious and heavy with child?"

John shakes his head at that, a frown on his lips.

"Papa?" Roland sounds so terrified, squeezing his way through the men's legs, staring and staring with wide dark eyes at the woman, confusion on his face, swallowing and looking at her, until he shakes his head with a pronounced frown.

* * *

Robin enters Storybrooke for the first time carrying the Evil Queen's unresponsive form in his arms.

He puts it out of his mind how familiar she feels there, because that is absurd, everything since waking, even before that, is absurd and strange. The Evil Queen should not be as achingly familiar as she is. Holding her should not give him comfort. Her swollen belly should not warm his heart; the feeling of her spawn kicking against his hand should not bring a smile to his lips.

The glinting of the town had been seen from the high ground of the forest. The only aid she could possibly get would be found in this shining town, this clean and foreign place.

He descends, suspicious but marveling at the buildings and the streets, at the large metal carriages that move with no horses.

The day is still young, but there are many in the streets, many. All dressed strange, in bright colors, in textures that Robin has never seen.

"She did this!" a short man screams, spittle flying from his mouth.

"We don't even know what's happe-"

"ursed again! This is ridicul-"

"Maybe it's better this wa-"

One of the many catches sight of him and his burden, a woman with the haircut of a man, heavily pregnant herself, a dark haired woman that gasps and rises a hand to her face. Her gasp has the others quieting, turning their heads to look at him.

"Regina?" she shrills, staring at the Evil Queen, she's waddling forward, others follow.

Robin's arms tighten around her, Regina, Robin thinks, looking down at the woman in his arms, frowning as his dream comes to him. _Regina_, he thinks, as her eyes blink open, dark eyes.

He knows her eyes.

"Robin?" she says, rolls off her tongue without hesitance as she looks up at him, her brow scrunching, her voice weak, her fingers scrabble at his coat.

His breath leaves him in one whoosh of air, watching her as she licks her lips and blinks, tucks her head towards him, she's limp again by the time the crowd meets Robin.

* * *

**authors note, this is short, so sorry about that, because I know and love the long chapters, the kind that go on and on, and you take such glee in the fact that the scroller on the side is so small, because it's like YES SO MUCH FIC, but I have not given that to you, my apologies, but the story is plowing head, so there is that at least.**

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**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	47. Chapter 47

The man smells of spirits. Just slightly, just a little. He's dressed well though, in this world's strange attire, tailored clothes worn under that bright white coat, his appearance is obviously well maintained, not a slovenly drunk then, but even so, Robin's fists clench, thinking of how he had left the Queen's well-being to a man that stinks of alcohol so early in the morning.

It had not been in Robin's hands though, quite literally, his burden, the woman named Regina, the Evil Queen was drawn from his shaking arms, drawn reluctantly from Robin, by Snow White's husband, David, who'd held the hugely pregnant woman awkwardly, his gawking mouth never closing, his eyes wide and staring between the Queen's belly and Snow's, as if he stared long enough both pregnancy's would disappear.

The hospital, she needs the hospital, Snow had decided, and Robin had not been able to say a word against it.

"Doctor Whale, how is she? Is she awake?" David asks the man that smells of liquor, David, Snow White's husband, his arm wrapped around his wife, he looks down at his wife after he's done his question, more of his concern obviously for her then for the woman that he's asking after.

The man, Doctor Whale, he shrugs one shoulder up, nodding at a woman in blue and taking papers from her, all the papers bundled in a file.

"No, she woke up for a few minutes about an hour ago though," Whale tells them, opening the file and flipping pages over, his gaze on whatever those pages hold.

Snow White is frowning, she steps forward, out from under David's arm, "You didn't call for us?"

Her question seeps indignation, a bit of a reprisal inflected there, she's a royal, Robin already knew, had known who she was since she got close enough to see her face, even with her long and tangled dark curls cut away, the face of Snow White was easily remembered. Her wanted posters were hung beside his for quite a while after all.

Whale wears a queer expression on his face at her question, her tone, a sort of twisted incredulousness that he doesn't try to _hide_, but nevertheless his head is turned down, and Robin thinks he is the only one to have seen it.

David clears his throat as Snow's frown deepens at Whale's none answer, David rubs his wife's back softly, saying, "Did she say anythi-"

Doctor Whale cuts him off.

"She didn't say much of anything at all," the man says, looking up from that file that says on its side, Regina Mills. "She recognized me, seemed relieved to find herself in the hospital, and passed out after asking if her baby was still alive."

The healer rubs at his forehead after closing the file, the pages thwumping against each other, a kneading motion rubbed into his skin, he is wishing for a drink, Robin can tell, has seen the searching look and shaking hands in many, and he thinks again that it was not right to trust the Queen's well-being to him, even if he does seem a professional sort.

"And, the baby?" Snow asks, her hands clasped before her, under her chin, a smile is starting to tip the corners of her lips, but the smile stills as the Doctor frowns, turns slightly away from the trio that stand before him, "The baby is okay, right?" she asks, huge eyes only growing bigger, "_right_?" she echoes, her voice tight, her hands going from under her chin, going down to rest on her own rotund stomach.

The baby, Robin can remember, can feel, if he concentrates, the sensation of the Queen's child moving under his palm, the baby is alive, _was_ alive when she lay in the forest clearing.

The Bonder burns on Robin's wrist, aching, he could untie the knot, slip the ribbon free, but he thinks he can see it, as if through a fog, from far away, a woman with long dark hair, a woman that is not Marian, a woman had kissed him and tied the blood red ribbon to him, a woman sitting in his lap, kissing with kisses that were fire and balm all at once. His memories, are they memories, leave a searing and lingering pain at the base of his skull, and _the baby_, he thinks, _Regina_, he thinks.

His mind is in shambles.

"Fetal heartbeat is strong, Regina looks to be about thirty-seven weeks along," the man in the white coat says, turning Robin's attention back to him, the Doctor has flipped open the file once more, he's reading from a thick bunch of papers, Robin can lean forward on his toes, just a tiny bit and see upside down things he can't decipher on those pages, lines and numbers, scrawled words that have no meaning to him, the doctor shrugs,

Snow lets out a relieved sigh, a smile over her shoulder to her husband, who smiles back at her.

"The baby is small, but remarkably well developed if the Mayor's current condition is a testament to how well the rest of her pregnancy went," the Doctor goes on.

"What do you mean?" Snow White asks, shaking her head and the concern that warps her brow looks to be endless, when one worry is soothed, another hooks her.

The healer closes those papers once more, he licks his lips, looks uncertain for a moment before he shrugs again, as if he's decided he does not care all that much actually, "I'm sure you noticed she's half starved?" he asks, eyes on David in particular, David had been the one to carry the Queen in through the doors of this building, David nods.

Snow bobs her head up and down, Robin swallows, the grip around his heart, the squeezing pressure he can't shake; it throbs, because yes, he had noticed as easily as David had. He had jokingly picked Marian up once, near the end of her pregnancy, after the Dark One's stolen magic had saved her life and Roland's, Robin had nearly broken his back trying to lift his healthy and lovely, huge, pregnant wife. But carrying the Queen, while she was no feather, she was not what Robin would call heavy either, and that makes fear prick at Robin's eyes.

"She's got a critical case of malnutrition, prolonged dehydration," each word out of the healers mouth seems to cause Snow more and more distress, Robin is no better, there are tears in his eyes and a voice from under his confusion, a voice from a memory he is sure, tells him _you failed her_, "there's evidence of a severe beating from three or four weeks ago-"

"A _beating_?" David echoes, clearly shocked. Out of Robin's own mouth a sort of plaintive groan (a whimper) lets loose.

He nearly sways as it slams into his brain, like an axe to a tree trunk, the memory, it is a memory, nearly cleaves him in two, the woman, his woman, _Regina_, bruised and dragging herself towards him, sobbing and trying to stop, her lip quivering as she yells out Robin's name and begs him to get up, just get up, ROBIN GET UP, a voice cackling over her screams.

Another whimper escapes his lungs and he is caught off guard when Snow pats his upper arm twice, looking at him and asking him if he's alright. Robin nods (though he is not alright at all), takes a deep breath, and is glad when the matter is dropped.

The Doctor looks to Robin for the first time, with narrowed eyes, looking Robin up and down with the eyes of a healer before gesturing at him, "And this is?" he directs the question to Snow, but it's Robin that answers.

"Robin of Locksley," Robin introduces himself, hesitates but eventually extends his hand to the Doctor.

"Victor Whale," the man reciprocates, clasping Robin's hand with a mild grip before releasing.

A tune begins to play, a lively little dingaling from David's pocket, the man pulls out an odd little thing, magic, Robin thinks, as David speaks into it, a 'hello' his greeting into the strange rectangle. It must be a common thing, Robin thinks, watching as neither Whale nor Snow bat an eye as David takes a few steps away.

"Can I see her?" Snow asks, rubbing once more at her belly, she's got pleading eyes, but they aren't necessary at all, the Doctor nods his head immediately, supplying a room number and a bid to not wake her.

Snow waddles off, Robin makes to follow, when David calls his name, "Robin," David jogs back down the hallway, he had drifted off with his little box, but he comes back, a hand raised out to Robin, "where did you say your camp was?"

Unease fills Robin, there's a tightness to David's mouth that bids ill tidings, "Upon the ridge, west of town," Robin answers, and David's mouth only pulls more. "What of it?"

A man is missing, in the woods, at the town line, and David draws Robin away, away from the hall, away from the hospital, his men have to move closer to town, David says. Robin let's himself be carried away, asks David of the town as they ride in his strange horseless carriage, he calls it a truck, Robin asks David of this land, Robin's mind on concerns that are not the woman he can't remember, the woman he is…is, afraid to call the mother of his child, because surely the Evil Queen earned her name, but even that brief moment when she'd looked at him, breathed out 'Robin', she had looked only like a woman, with trust in her eyes and in her voice, trust for Robin. The baby inside her, that is Robin's child.

* * *

He tells as such to John later, when the camp, those strange colored tents moved with much difficulty until Tuck had found a set of instructions tucked away inside his blue tent, when the camp is moved. They are only a twenty minute walk out of town now, warming themselves before a campfire. Roland is sleeping in the tent he and Robin share, he had cried for nearly ten minutes, quiet cries he tried to hide, before Robin asked him what the matter was and he nearly bawled, plaintively asking for his Mama, he fell asleep with tears still leaking from his eyes.

John stares and stares after Robin reveals what he is certain is the truth, that the Queen carries his child, that there is… that he lo- he cuts himself off, his mouth running ahead of him, he stops to think and then he cannot say it, though he knows it for the truth, there is love there, when he thinks of the dark haired woman, the dark eyed woman, _Regina_. John stares and stares, a hard look on his face, conflicting emotions glistening in his eyes.

"Tell me your thoughts," Robin begs, because he fears he is losing his mind, as he had done after losing Marian, a day spent in this new world, Maine, David called it, and still Robin feels off kilter.

"You believe the child that grows in the belly of the Evil Queen, is _your_ child," John finally says, whispers, leaning down closer to Robin though not one of the other Merry Men seem to care at all, their own ideas swamping their minds. At Robin's nod John turns his head to look into the fire, contemplative more than anything else, there is a rigidness to his shoulders though, "What makes you think such?" he questions.

Robin speaks of flashing memories, of a woman, a pregnant woman with long dark hair, with dark eyes, chuckling and warm and lovely, and those dark eyes, they are the Queen's eyes, Robin is certain, that voice, it is her voice, there is no mistake. Robin speaks of the happiness that soared in his heart when he felt the baby kick against his hand, a feeling so intense he nearly choked on it.

They have lost nearly a year of memories, the day did not go on without _some_ answers being found, everyone in this town has lost time, a year, and in that year, Robin had been with the Queen. Her child is _his_ child.

"Well?" Robin demands, hands splayed to try and pry some response from John.

John looks almost pained, "I do not know what to say, Robin," John answers, shaking his head, he looks back to Robin, his nose scrunched up, his brow constricted, "this missing year is entirely blank to me, I have not even a blur of a memory, yet you say you have numerous memories playing in your mind. What if they were planted there?"

"Pardon?" Robin balks, the thought never occurring to him, they feel true to him, more the truth then anything.

"What if this is some trick of the Evil Queen's?"

"For what possible gain?" Robin cries, voice rising, "What _reason_ would a Queen have to make a thief think he is her lover?"

Lover, the word tickles up Robin's spine, and if he let it he knew another memory would consume him, he can almost feel his fingers ghosting over soft skin, can hear right next to his ear a breathy moan, her voice stuttering over his name, soft, she is soft, but he does not let the memory drag him down, though it seems a thoroughly pleasant one.

"Dear god, Robin," John says, suddenly angry, gritting his teeth and grimacing, still looks to be in pain, stomping to his feet, heads swivel to look at him, but no one must strain to hear him, he says it clearly, "What _reason_ was there for slaughtering villages? What _reason_ was there for casting curse that swept away an entire land? What reasons can I supply you with when the bitch is mad!"

Robin launches to his feet, barely restrains himself from punching his best friend right in the jaw, "You call her a bitch again, I dare you," he threatens, his voice lowered, dark, and it's not till Arthur is tugging at his arm that he realizes his hand was at his dagger.

"Papa?" the title squeaked out, Robin takes a breath, blinks long, before he turns to his son, walking to him and picking him up, the child is bigger then he remembers, but still his boy, still his sweet Roland.

"What are you doing up, hmm my boy?" Robin tickles under Roland's chin, it's enough to have the boy squirming, the glare he'd had on his face, the glare he'd had on John, fading, the boy had heard it all, that much is obvious.

"The bunny woke me up!" Roland answers, still squirming, though Robin's hand is only resting now against the boy's chest.

"A bunny?" Robin walks over to the flap of the tent, wondering how a wild animal, even one as innocuous as a rabbit could make its way unknown into the tent, Robin nearly jumps out of his skin when the- the thing erupts through the green sheeny fabric of the tent wall. A white, pearly hare, a lovely thing that bounces it's way around Roland and Robin, carrying itself higher and higher, it's feet against nothing but air until it melts away high off the ground, dissipating like smoke, gone as if it were never there as Roland laughs in delight and kicks his legs.

"Did you see?" Roland cries, as if it were remotely possibly Robin could have missed the display.

"Aye, my boy," Robin assures him, ignoring John's mumbling in behind him, something about magic, the word hissed out, _magic_ and _witch_, it is unlike him, Robin thinks, Roland hears it as well, he tenses in Robin's arms before snuggling closer, begging for another story.

* * *

_Naked before a huge mirror, the room lite by a healthy fire in the hearth, by candles that shadowed each soft curve of her body, her profile on display, her hand running over and over her bump, the belly that held their daughter._

_Robin came to her, kneeled before her and kissed the belly button that had popped out a week ago, 'uggh,' she groaned, her hands moving to his shoulders as he held her hips, pressing kiss after kiss to each stretch mark he found, 'it's not cute when you do this,' she told him, swatting at him, but he did not need to look up at her to know she was smirking._

_'you are so beautiful,' he told her, as he did each time he found her studying her appearance and frowning._

_'the world you're looking for is fat,' she'd dug right back, circling her arms around his neck when he stood, she was on tiptoes, snuggling her forehead in against his neck and letting out a huge sigh. He was careful to avoid the wounds on her back as he held her in return, thanking whatever deity had weaved their souls together, thankful that she was here with him, safe, his thoughts turned melancholy as she hissed, one of his hands had strayed too close to flayed skin, safe, for now, he amended._

_The moment was soft, a moment caught right before bed, before sleep, it was easy. Loving her was easy, it was protecting her that was hard._

Robin twitches in his sleep, a frown marking his mouth. Roland next to him grunts and rolls over.

_A blur of green is above Regina, Regina on her back on the ground, panting and limp, her eyes open, staring up at the blur that is green and shaped like a woman, a woman that lands a foot on Regina's belly, resting it there and only cackling harder when Robin fights at his bonds and screams at her, bellow after bellow leaving his raw throat, a flash of white teeth, cackle after cackle, 'you think this one will survive?' the green bitch asks, voice sweet and cruel, acid in the form of sugar._

_'don't,' Regina said, begging, rising a weak hand to lay on her sisters leather clad toes, 'please, don't, Ze-_

"Papa! There's a wolf outside!" Roland screams right in Robin's ear, but anger does not come, not after the boy's words become clear to Robin's waking brain, he has his dagger in his hands seconds later, he hears commotion outside.

He unfastens the flap, stumbles out into the weak pink rays of pre-dawn and is just in time to see a huge, giant, grey wolf, dappled grey with white at the muzzle, he's just in time to see the giant beast stumble, hackles raised at his men, men that have yet to try to fell it, for fear that they would fail and merely make it angry. And then it collapses, hitting the ground with an thud, the ground shaking, the wolf as big as the carriage David had called a truck. The wolf transforms into an old woman right before Robin's eyes.

"Fucking monkey's," he hears her say, before her eyes close, before she lays still, her knitted shawl falling off one shoulder, a perfect row of four gouges clawed down her back.

* * *

**Authors Note, anyone have any feelings about any of this? like why is john being a douche? what the heck has Granny been doing? I love to hear your thoughts, good or bad, just don't be rude about it, that is really unnecessary, but I'm not gonna tell you what to do, I'm not your boss, I'm not anyone's boss but my own and I don't even listen to me sooo. **

**a lady was mean to me in the egg section of the grocery store like last week and I still find myself thinking about it. just wanted to get that off my chest.**

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**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	48. Chapter 48

Little John carries the old woman into town, the Merry Men had done what they could do to staunch the blood from her wounds before Little John had picked her from the ground, following Robin as he brings him to the hospitals doors.

She wakes once, shouting out curse words left and right, she grabs at Robin, grip on his green cowl, dragging him down so she can snarl in his face, and he is reminded that she is a wolf, he'd seen it for himself, "I hid it with the rest," she says to him, a cryptic thing, a thing that makes absolutely no sense to him before she releases him, shoves him violently back as her back arches. The old woman screams bloody murder, screaming about fucking monkeys and wolves, about how a wolf will win every time.

They sedate her relatively quickly, stabbing her with a needle in the shoulder, "I won't turn," she slurs, promising a healer like a mother promising its babe, all sweetness.

"This is where the Evil Queen was taken?" John asks as the old woman is rolled away on a gurney, he has calmed since the night before, but still visibly upset.

Robin nods, they are in a dingy room by the doors, chairs lined up to fill the entire room. He is itching to go and see her, would have come to see her even if they had not had to carry the old woman here.

"Go to her then," John says, turning on his heel, walking away with only a shake of his shaggy head.

Robin watches him as long as he can, watching his form through the glass doors after they slide shut with a little hiss.

Regina has been moved.

The room number Whale gave Snow, that room is empty now, Robin stands there dumbly, looking into the empty room, the bed made, the room clean, as if she had never been there. Panic begins to rise, not knowing where she is, how she is, enough to have his heart to quicken.

The white hare, the pearly, smokey thing, it appears in the hall, just as Robin turns away from the empty room, it sits on it haunches, calm, smoke drifting up in soft curls from its body. Robin holds his breath looking at the thing, magic, he thinks, the hare stares and stares, eyes with no pupils staring and staring, a blank gaze that weighs on Robin like the weight of the ocean atop his aching lungs.

"Can you bring me to her?" Robin whispers, feeling foolish, but there is no one to see him be a fool, no healers, no one in this entire hall. Robin has to find her now, in this strange world, in this strange building with strange smells and sights, he needs to know she is well.

The thing stands on fragile feet, unreal feet, hops once down the hall, its paws not quite touching the shiny floor, and looks back at Robin, as if waiting for Robin to follow. Robin senses no danger, but even still he is hesitant, the hare just stares and stares, silent and judging, when it hops once more, Robin follows.

He follows the smokey thing, straight across the building called a hospital, down hall after endless hall, noises beeping and thrumming through his ears the entire way, only twice he thinks he hears the distant sound of human voices, echoing from behind closed doors, or from far down a hall. He feels life here, it's as if everyone has merely stepped away for just a moment, as if to facilitate Robin on his sneaky way. The hare leads Robin straight to Regina, the hare goes through a door, insubstantial, it passes straight through the door. When Robin opens it and walks through, closing it gently behind him, he sees the hare snuggling beside her on the high bed, before it melts away into the air, drifting away softly.

She is bound to the bed, Robin sees nothing else, once he sees the metal around her dainty wrist, the hare gone from his mind, that mystery forgotten as he sees the way the metal that has chafed her skin, metal that is restraining her, he sees red. Rage seeping through every pore, through his very skin, digging into his bones, his jaw locked in place as he steps to her bedside. She is sleeping on her side, and he does not want to wake her, not when she looks exhausted, one wrist awkwardly bound to the lip of the bedframe, alone and sleeping and restrained. But nor will he leave the offending article upon her wrist.

A hand in her hair, dark hair, long hair, spread on the pillow under her head, he does it as if he has done it a thousand times, no memory comes to him, but the action is without thought, her hair is soft, dark and heavy, comforting. He takes a breath, pulling his hand free from the dark locks, moving his hands down to her wrist, her restrained wrist. He'd thought the bindings to be tight, when he first looked upon them, but the more he looks, it's as if the cuffs loose and loose the more he looks, until he is able to slip her hand free easily, her fingers twitching in his gentle grasp.

He lets out a heavy sigh, his back bowing to be closer to her, she smells of chemicals, of the hospital, but underneath he thinks he smells vanilla, wafting as if through a warm kitchen.

_'Come here to me,' he urges, hands around her waist, pulling her in towards him._

_Robin wraps his arms around her, widening his feet and bending his knees until he can tuck his face into her neck without her straining on her toes, he smells in the scent of her, vanilla and wood smoke, warm and soft, the bump between them, he can feel the baby kicking at his rib, as agitated as her mother._

_Regina sniffles, arms wrapped around his head, fingers digging into his shoulder and his neck, 'You know that I love you,' she says._

_He nods against her neck, kisses the bare skin of her collarbone, 'of course.'_

_'It needs the thing I love most, but-', her sentence is lost in a sob, a whimper, 'I could never, not, not to you, but-'_

_'ssshh,' he tries to calm her._

_She's trembling in his grasp, 'The thing I lo- love most, it's-'_

_'It's Henry,' Robin says, pulling back to look at her, to hold her face in his hands and kiss her softly, 'it's the baby, Regina, I know that, it's alright.'_

_She's nearly incomprehensible, as she surges back into his arms, her face tucked against his chest, 'I could never do it,' she cries, the grip she has on him beginning to hurt, 'not aga- again, my father, I ripped out his h- heart, I can't, I can't.'_

_Robin had not known that, had not known she had murdered her own father, she was not called the Evil Queen for nothing, Robin knows, but that is no longer who she is, 'You don't have to, Regina, it's alright,' Robin holds her, pets her hair, and listens to her weeping, all the while terrible rage brewing in his gut. Snow and David had asked her to cast the curse again, for good this time, to defeat  
the witch, knowing what the price would be, they imagined the thing she loved most was Robin, but they were wrong._

The Queen, Regina, _his_ Regina, she mumbles, pulling him free, her brow scrunching, adjusting lightly on the bed, she is waking, waking with a frown that scrunches her nose, and he grins, it's the most adorable frown he's ever had the privilege to see. He has time to lick his lips before her eyes blink open, he cradles her hand in both of his, thumb rubbing over her knuckles, and watches as she wakes up to the sight of his face.

She smiles at him, her hand in his, the first thing she sees is his face, and she smiles, easy from her mouth flows his name.

Robin does not know what to say, lost in her brown eyes, beautiful dark eyes, her beautiful face, and so says nothing as she moves, curling towards him further, as if to fall back asleep, but then she tenses, her eyes snapping open. Gaze spinning around the room as her breath hitches, before her frantic gaze lands back on Robin, her hand now holding tightly at his, her blunt nails digging slightly into his skin, "Robin?" she repeats, desperation and fear filled hope soaked into the single utterance of his name.

"I'm here," he answers, cradling her hand, moving one hand back up into her hair, smoothing it off her face, "I'm right here," he tells her and helps her when she attempts to sit up.

She looks at him for a long moment, just as he looks at her, a long searching moment; she touches his face, swiping her thumb over his chin, over his lips, fingers running across his cheek bone, until her hand lands down by his collar, the tips of her fingers against his pulse point. Something she sees in his face, it pulls her lips down into a heartbroken frown, "You don't remember me," she says, holding back a sob, trying to push him away.

"I know you," he tries to tell her, ignoring the weak hand she pushes against his shoulder, she does not seem to have heard him, she's shaking her head, "I _know_ you, Regina," he says again, hand at the nape of her neck, Robin is nearly crying himself, watching as she tries to hide her tears from him, sudden tears that leave her gasping, snorting up snot. "Stop, Regina, stop," Robin begs, beside the bed a machine has started to make noise, a shrill beep, "I'm right here, I know you, _please_, Regina."

"That's impossible," Regina sobs, clutching at her middle, at where Robin's daughter is growing, his daughter, he knows that child is his daughter, and Regina is his love, he _knows_. "The curse, it-"

"Listen to me," he begs her, "look at me," she does so, dark eyes filled with tears, he rubs the wet trails from her cheeks, "Regina, I know you," and he does, god he does, he knows her, it aches in his soul, a pressing weight against his ribs, the words come to him, his lips move without thought, he has said these words so many times before and they flash before him as he tells her, "you are my love and my life, more precious than I can sa-"

The door slams open behind Robin, Regina jumps at the noise, holding onto him as he turns to find a frowning woman looking from him, then down the cuffs that lie useless still attached to the bed, "You are not allowed in here," she says, walking further into the room.

"I will not be leaving," Robin growls, holding to Regina tighter, Regina is trying to wipe away the evidence of her tears, hiding her face from the woman that wears the clothes of a healer in this land.

The woman makes it all the way around the bed, to the machine that still shrills its frantic song, she licks her lips, looks from the display on the machine, then down to Regina. Regina raises her chin, "I want him here," Regina says, voice cold, gaze cold, "visiting hours are between ten and eight, he has every right to be here," authority seeps from Regina's voice, but Robin can feel her trembling as he holds her.

The woman silences the machine, pressing a button that gives way with a clack, she shakes her head before she speaks, "Only family is allowe-"

"I _am_ her family!" Robin bellows, irrationally angry, still terribly confused and frustrated, this new world testing his patience in every way.

"If you don't leave, I will have no choice but to call the King and Queen," the woman says, like it is a threat that means anything at all.

Robin snorts, "Call them then," he urges, he glares down at the cuffs again, just a moment, just long enough for his rage to once more roar to life, "was it by their order that she was restrained? I do not imagine that it was," Robin remembers the care in the eyes of Snow White when she looked upon Regina, she would not have ordered restraint, "was it you that made that choice?" he growls.

"_What_," the word is hissed from the door, Whale stands at the threshold, looking annoyed and very close to being angry, "is going on in here? I have patients sleeping in this ward."

"By whose order was she restrained?" Robin turns immediately to ask the doctor, "Yours?"

"What are you talking about?" Whale steps further into the room, eyes narrowed, "Are you alright?" he asks Regina, looking around Robin to see her, he is still holding her, an arm around her shoulders, her head tucked against his chest.

"This woman," Regina answers, disdain clear in her tone and the hand motion she directs at the nurse, "is insisting my guest has no right to be here."

Robin is gesturing as well, an angry swipe of his hand, gesturing at the cuffs, the metal cuffs that have left chafed and irritated skin behind on Regina's wrists. "I found her bound to the bed, are you not responsible for her well-being? This is your definition of care?"

Whale reaches out to touch them, they clink against the blanket, Whale takes a breath, eyes sliding closed before he turns to the woman, the woman in pink scrubs, a nervous expression now on her face, "Explain this to me," he bids her.

She swallows, "The Blue Fairy thought it best if-"

"Is the Blue Fairy an employee of this hospital?" Whale says, terrifying for how quietly he is speaking, he's menacing for a moment, as his eyes, eerily wide, they drill into the young woman that dances from foot to foot.

"No, of course not," she answers, "but-"

"Get out," Whale grits his teeth and says.

"Sir, I-"

"Get. Out." Whale says again, pointing towards the door, and finally the woman does so, a tick in her jaw bouncing as she forcefully steps out.

"I apologize," Whale sighs, his hands shaking as he threads his fingers through his hair. "This," he gestures to the cuffs, "won't happen again," he makes that promise to Robin, but then he turns to Regina, "How are you feeling?" he asks her.

"Much better, thank you," she says back, her voice brittle, she has not moved out of Robin's half embrace. "When can I leave?"

"I don't think that's wi-"

"When?" Regina asks, gripping at the lapel of Robin's jacket.

Whale licks his lips, shaking his head, hands deep in the pockets of that white coat, he looks guilty and sad, wretched, as if something awful has just caught up to him. He opens his mouth to speak, but changes his mind with another shake of his head, "You can leave as soon as I get someone to unplug your catheter and your IV's, I'll draw up your discharge papers," he finally says.

Not forty minutes later Robin is helping Regina stand, rubbing her upper arms to warm her as they step out the sliding glass doors of the hospital, they've not spoken in that time, he has been by her side, holding her hand, petting her hair, long hair that he adores, but any words that need to be said need to be said alone, they have not been alone till now. Walking side by side, down a paved street, Regina wearing borrowed clothes, clothes given to her by the hospital before she was discharged, her belly is too big for the coat they have given her, it's impossible to zip, but at least the sweater covers her.

The dress she wore unconscious in the forest, she had shoved that in a bin without looking at it for very long after it was handed to her by a very obviously nervous nurse, the red cloak though, that she had folded carefully and placed in a bag provided by the same nurse. The shoe, she had only been wearing one when Robin had made it into town, the other having fallen off as he ran with her in his arms, she held the silver slipper in her hand as the nurse tried to tell her to eat and rest, for the sake of her baby, she stared and stared before she tucked it into the bag with the cloak.

They walk away from the hospital together, her hand is warm in his, they still are silent, their fingers threaded together, and something about that tickles at his brain, something about her hands bare and soft and warm and free to the air, it has a memory urgently tugging at his brain, swamping him suddenly wit-

_'Robin!' her voice is frantic, her bundled hands thudding against his shoulder urgently, pulling him from sleep._

_'Wha?' he sits up, trying to grab at her wrists, to calm her, 'Regina? What is it, stop, Regina?'_

_She's not quite crying, too terrified to cry, 'The baby," she says, gasping, her bundled hands down at her belly, she's still on her back on the bed, laying there, writhing and gasping, 'something's wrong! Robin, help- p me, I can't,' she sobs._

_He's awake in an instant, terror stricken, eyes wide, jumping from the bed, only to stand there and hover over her, she has told him of how she lost her other pregnancies, how she awoke in pools of blood, her bed sheets stained, but there is no blood under her, he looks and finds no blood, but still his panic does not lessen, 'I'll fetch Doc,' Robin tells her, kissing her temple as she whimpers, turning on her side, a tremor that looks almost like a seizure shaking her frame._

_Robin screams for John, the hall is cold, this wasted section of the manor cold and drafty, Robin wears no shirt, but he does not feel the cold at all as he screams and goes across the hall to John's door, banging his palm against the wood and screaming until John's worried face appears._

_'Get Doc!' Robin begs, 'John, please!'_

_She is sobbing as Robin runs back to their room, she's thrashing and sobbing uncontrollably, she's having a seizure._

_'Regina!' Robin tries to rouse her, her head bangs against the head board and he tugs her down so the only thing any part of her can reach is the soft mattress, but that is the only time he touches her until the seizure has passed, leaving her weak and panting, sweating in the sheets._

_He gathers her up against him, clutching at her, more terrified here in his bed then during any fight, he had felt safe here, and that was a mistake. 'The baby,' she whispers against his neck, 'not the baby,' as if she is pleading with someone._

_The next day, after a night of no rest, a night of shaking and seizures, of terror, Regina sits up in bed, unwraps her hands._

_Robin does not need to be told what had happened._

_Their daughter will be born blind._

"Robin!" the voice, and a hand urgently at his shoulder, so much like the memory; Robin opens his bleary eyes to Regina's worried face.

He stands on wobbly legs, stumbles upon the sidewalk, stumbling and pulling Regina along for three shambling steps before she's able to stop his momentum and get them both some balance, "What is it? Robin, are you alright? Robin!?"

"I just," Robin shakes his head, holds her, he will never get enough of holding her, of touching her, of being able to touch her freely, his hand is against her back, tangled in her hair, "I remembered something," he slurs, more taken out of him with that last glimpse of his missing year than ever before.

"You can remember?" Regina asks, she's pushing him to a bench, and when the back of his knees touch the seat he falls without grace into it with a grunt. "Robin, you remember me?" she asks, sinking to her knees between his legs with more difficulty then she'd probably thought, the bump awkward, impeding almost every movement she makes. She's cradling his face in her upraised hands, that terrified hope on her face once more.

Robin nods, hands in her hair, his mind still reeling, "Just flashes," he admits, "but I know you, Regina, I know you, and I love you, believe me."

Her bottom lip trembles before she bites down on it, tilting her head down, looking away from him.

"I love you too," she whispers, those words from her perfect mouth is nearly Robin's undoing, he gulps down something very much like a sob, hugging her suddenly to him, her head cradled against his chest, his nose at the top of her head.

"What happened to us?" he asks her, "How did we come to this place?"

"You were cursed," she answers.

"All of us?" he asks, leaning back to look at her, hands on either side of her face as she adjust on her knees, still between his legs, it cannot be comfortable for her on the cold ground. He pulls her up, wants her on his lap but knows, he knows, that is something she would not like here on the street for anyone to see, he pulls her beside him, arm around her.

"No," she answers him as she leans back into his arm, hand rubbing over her pregnancy, smoothing the fabric of the large sweater, her fingers tracing the striped pattern of the wool, "you gave me," she shakes her head, her lovely eyes slipping closed, "you gave me a pair of slippers, Robin, can you remember?"

The silver slippers, Robin's breath catches in his throat, his hands tensing against Regina, blood fills his vision, sudden, the smell of blood fills his nose, screams fill his ears, blood and screams, and a vision _of Arthur, the young man with an axe in his hands, an axe in his hands and a screaming man with his feet hacked off on the ground before Arthur, only spurting blood and sharp bone to be seen at his ankles and the slippers, the slippers that would not leave his feet without the witch's word and so they cut off his feet, the blood does not stain them, he begged and begged, but Robin has no choice, because the curse and the baby, and sweet Roland, this is not the first man he has maimed, 'she must be your strength' Emil had said, Regina must be Robin's strength if he is to have a beautiful family, a happy ending, his son and Regina's son, two daughters that they share, 'she must be your strength' as the man screams and screams, he is an enemy, a bad man, he had killed the woman Asha who was Walter's friend, he was a monkey then but he had still killed her, he screams after every hacking blow delivered with the blunt axe, "I am sorry," Robin chokes out, it doesn-_

"ROBIN!" Regina's voice is a scream.

Robin's eyes open, but he can't seem to get his mouth to work, he has slumped back on the bench, but Regina is not the only one standing above him.

A man with glasses and ginger hair, a spotted dog wagging his tail patiently by his side, he stands with a hand at Regina's elbow, his brow pinched in concern, his dogs leash wrapped tightly around his right hand. "Are you alright, sir?" he questions, looking at Robin.

"Help me, please," Regina asks the man, turning to him, "can you drive us to my house?"

"Are you sure he's alright, Regina?" the ginger man asks, that hand tightening at her elbow, his gaze very earnestly at her belly, "If you did something to him you can tell me."

"Leave her be," Robin grunts, throwing himself forward, head in his hands, a headache burning just behind his eyes, "Take your baseless accusations elsewhere," Robin says, finally looking up to glare at the man that looks imploring and earnest and _confused_ in the face of Robin's anger.

"Sir, are you su-"

"Archie," Regina says, hooking an arm under Robin's elbow and hauling him up, "please drive us home."

* * *

Things blur, memories flash before him, haunting and awful…so fast they blur…he does not remember them when he wakes.

* * *

Robin wakes in a soft bed, a bed that smells of vanilla, of warmth and safety, of the woman he loves, day light still shines through the curtains, from its light he knows it is not even midday. Regina is sleeping in a chair beside the bed, a cream colored chair, her feet propped up at the bed's edge beside Robin's waist, the way her neck is tilted cannot be comfortable.

Robin rests his hand over one of her sock clad feet, her tiny feet wrapped in thick warmth, she has changed her clothes, a black dress that hugs every single curve of her body, her pregnancy swelling out, Robin melts as he looks at her.

He wants to kiss her, he realizes.

"Regina?" he questions, jostling her foot lightly, it's enough to wake her from the doze she'd been in.

Blinking her eyes open and grimacing as she moves her head up, she blinks three times before she seems to remember to be worried for him. Her feet move out from under his hand, down to the carpet as she slides from the chair to the side of the bed. "How do you feel?" she questions, one hand by his shoulder, the other resting against his chest.

He does not answer. He wants nothing more than to kiss the worry from her mouth.

And he can, he knows, because they are in love, they are together, she carries his child inside her, she had tied the Bonder about his wrist. When he moves a hand between her shoulder blades, it is a hesitant hand, he urges her to bend down, a move made more difficult by the nearly fully formed baby in her womb. She breathes out a light laugh, adjusting before she lays on her side beside him instead of bending over him, he turns to face her, his legs tangling with hers, each of her breaths falls across his face, he kisses her.

A languid kiss, gentle and easy, tongue and lips and a teasing nip at her bottom lip, an easy thing, he groans as the hand she had on his chest slides up against his neck, fingernails scraping across his stubble. He moves his leg up, his thigh between hers, he notches it up against her and she gasps against his mouth, fingers scrabbling at his collar, he groans, kissing her more fiercely. He has missed her, god he knows that now, he has missed her, his body is humming, each breath, each kiss, spikes up excitement in his belly.

"God," he groans, pulling his mouth from hers, breathing instead into her ear, "I love you," he says, biting at her earlobe, before trailing kiss after kiss down the side of her neck, reveling in the way it makes her squirm against him, rocking against his thigh, her dress rucked up around her hips as he tugs the material up.

"Stop," she says, pushing at him.

He pulls back, staring at her, surprised to find tears growing in her eyes.

She disentangles herself from him, pushing at him until she has room to swing her legs around and off the bed, she stands. Her back to him, her arms crossed.

"What's the matter?" he asks, standing as well, afraid to touch her, the rigidity of her spine concerns him, he is lost, fumbling, it is not right to cling to her as his only safe port, but being with her makes him feel as though he is not losing his mind, he wants to touch her, to hold her to him. He wants to comfort her.

"I can't," she shakes her head, turns to him, moves a hand between them, "do this, if you don't remember…" her sentence trails off, he grabs her gesturing hand.

He holds it, lands it against his chest, against his beating heart, "I know you," he tells her again, feels as though he has said it already so many times, but he would say it a hundred more for her to hear him.

"No," she says, pulling her hand from him, "Robin, we had a fight, you don't remember, but-"

"I know that I love you," Robin interrupts her, rushing to reassure her, no simple fight would stop him loving her, even confused and frustrated, lost in a new world, bewildered, he knows he loves her too much for a fight to separate them.

She shakes her head, a single tear slipping free, "You said-"

A noise comes from a little black box on her bedside table; it vibrates and blares out a little song, Robin tenses, and holds onto Regina a moment as she attempts to step away, to grab the little box. "Let me go," Regina has to say before Robin does so.

She plucks it from table top, brings it to her ear after pressing her thumb against a button on its smooth surface. "Regina Mills," is her greeting, formal tone, her back still stiff, it must be a way of communication, Robin has already realized, he wonders who she is speaking to. But most of what she is doing is listening, until she says a polite, "Goodbye," and throws the thing upon the mess of her bed.

"That was David," she says, her jaw jutting out, her arms tight around herself, her dress still hitched several inches up her thighs, "the Merry Men are looking for you, Robin."

* * *

**authors note, ahhhh I have to be somewhere in half an hour but it takes fifty to get there! I got carried away writing fanfiction and the more I sit here and write this authors note the more I'm latttteeeeee. what has my life become, my god.**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	49. Chapter 49

"Your feet are meant to reach those pedals, yes?" Robin asks from the passenger seat of the benz, he's folded awkwardly, Regina had told him how to slide the seat back, he has as much leg room as he could possibly have, but his legs are still too long to sit comfortably.

His legs are too long, but hers are decidedly too short.

Regina huffs out a huge breath, a hand stretched out to the steering wheel, gripping it in clenching fingers, her other resting over her belly, thumb running over the scratchy maternity coat she'd found in her closet, the wool a dark maroon. She'd had him pull her seat out too, before she'd even thought about trying to lever herself into the low car, he'd done so and it was at a glacial page that she eased down into the familiar seat, even with it pulled back there is barely enough room for her belly in the tiny car and her feet don't reach the pedals with the seat out, her legs are too short.

"Yes," Regina snaps, "my feet are meant to reach them," head tilting back, a disgruntled sigh, an explosion of displeasure, spilling out.

Robin chuckles, the familiar sound alone nearly enough to have Regina sob, chuckling _at_ her though, she realizes, emotions all over the place, not because of the pregnancy (which is not helping, she can admit begrudgingly), but because she is scared, feels alone even with Robin sitting just an arm reach away, he says he knows her, but how can he? She opens her eyes, side eyes him unhappily, before she huffs out a breath and opens the door she'd just clapped shut. Her dramatic exit is horribly hampered by the child growing inside her, Regina's balance is off, her ankles swollen, and she understands she's not as big as she's supposed to be, but she still needs a hand offered to stand, especially from the tiny and low to the ground Benz.

A tiny bit of breath, hardly anything, escapes Regina's lips as she stops, not even attempting to stand on her own once the chore of swinging her legs out of the car is done. That tiny breath turns into a snort, soft laughter spilling from her lips as she rests her hands over her belly, she hears Robin clattering out of the passenger door, the slam of it closing with too much force, and then he's running around the hood, "Are you alright? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed."

Her lungs jump in a gasping breath.

He drops to his knees in front of her, gathering up her hands and pressing them to his lips, her cold fingers ghosting across his stubble.

Regina shakes her head; she wants to be strong enough to tear herself away from him, she wants to be strong enough to stop her tears, because laughter turned to tears, big fat tears rolling down her face, breath snorting as she fights to rein it back in, she wants to be strong, but she _isn't_, not right now. She crumples in on herself, hands trembling against his lips as he presses desperate kisses to her palms, she's sobbing, sobbing out emotions she has repressed for days, days she'd spent without him, and then to find herself alone in the hospital, alone. He'd returned in time, before Snow's curse, she had not been sure he'd come back for her, after what he'd said she hadn't thought-

"Are you alright? Please, speak to me," Robin begs.

He'd returned to her, right before the dark and menacing cloud of the second curse had time to claim them, Snow and Charming still on the ground, sharing one heart between them, Regina without one, still without one, her heart still safe with Granny, at least she hoped, and they having only one between them, their curse rolling in from all around, he'd erupted from the smoke and he'd shoved the silver slippers on her feet, manhandled her to achieve it so quickly, he had been covered in blood, dried blood staining his clothes, so much blood-

"What's going on here?"

Regina's head whips up, the rumble of an engine invading her ears, tears still wet on her face, to look at the speaker, to look at Grumpy as he stands uncomfortably just inside her hedges, his old van on the road behind him, his eyes squinting suspiciously, mouth open in that permanent snarl, something shifts in his stance though, when his eyes meet hers, that squint relenting a fraction as Regina hastily wipes at her cheeks, hoping eye liner and mascara has not run rivulets of black down her skin.

How exactly do these insipid people always find her when she is weakest?

"Will you run us into town?" Regina asks, bitterly seeing that Grumpy's sudden appearance is fortuitous in the aspect that she no longer has to either walk to Main or call one of the idiots and ask to be picked up, she bites down the urge to order, to demand, Grumpy doesn't respond well to such things, and she is far too tired to try and bait him, however fun it always is to see his face turn red under his beard.

Grumpy snorts up a wet sounding scoff, "I'm not a cab service, lady," he says, but he doesn't step away.

"I wasn't offering payment," Regina bites back, gesturing for Robin to stand, and after he does, his face drawn and worried, and guilty, she has him pull her up, his hands strong and secure, gripping hers, an undignified move if there ever was one, huffing and puffing until she's on her feet, she retreats from his touch immediately, walks towards Grumpy, ignoring Robin calling her name softly after her.

Grumpy's lips twitch as she approaches, his snarl lessening little bit by little bit until there's a perplexed and amused expression playing on his face, it's very nearly a smile, a breath comes out his nose, obviously laughter, at her answering glare he points right at her, at her belly, "You fucking waddle," he tells her, as if she wasn't already aware.

"Yes, well I'm growing a new life inside me," Regina snaps, still brittle, the little niggling of pain in her head that happens right before she cries is still niggling, she's on edge, "I'm not sure what excuse you have to offer."

His smile is gone like it was never there, those narrowed eyes back to squinting suspiciously. "Whose this clown?" he asks, gesturing with oil stained hands at Robin, Robin who has come up behind Regina and landed a hand low on her spine, rubbing his fingers against her, easing the muscles of her back that ache.

"This is-"

"I'm her husband," Robin cuts her off, he sounds so sure.

Grumpy's eyes widen, so do Regina's.

"No," she says, quietly, so, so quietly, she can't look at him, won't look at him, his hand still on her back, out of the corner of her eye she can see his tortured brows drawing together, studying her profile in confusion and maybe even a bit of frustration, "no, you aren't," she tells him, because he can't remember for himself. And she steps away from him.

She stomps past Grumpy, out from her hedges, within a step of his van before either of the men move or speak, Robin calls out her name, just as Grumpy barks out, "Hey, I didn't agree to anything here!"

Regina has a hand on the handle of the door, she's very nearly in tears again, eyes heavy with tears, unfallen, her breath hitches as she turns to look at Grumpy, "Please," she says, not begging, she doesn't beg, saying please is not lowering yourself here, not in this land, it's polite, she tells herself.

It makes Grumpy blink though, and the concern is back in his eyes, hidden under gruffness, but he's not nearly the actor he thinks he is, he eyes Robin once more, clearly distrustful, and steps forwards, voice lowered, he opens the car door for her, shoving her hand off the handle, "You alright here, sister?" he asks, when the metal of the door blocks Robin from their quiet words.

Grumpy can't remember the somewhat-friendship they built, the hours spent bickering, the meals spent trying to one up the other with wit and biting words, but even if he did remember, theirs was not a relationship built on comfort, she would never have confided in him anyway. "I'm perfectly fine," Regina answers him.

Grumpy nods, offers his hand to help her lug her extra weight up into the van, she looks over Grumpy's shoulder as he's helping her, "Robin, come on," she calls out to him, "we'll have David drive you to your men."

"Preggers rides shotgun," Grumpy adds, calling over his shoulder to Robin, Robin whose mouth is a thin pressed line, "get in the back."

The car ride is a very quiet one.

* * *

"Regina!" Snow says as soon as she opens the door, Regina had only needed to knock twice before it had been answered, the old door swinging open, the frame filled with a heavily pregnant Snow.

Snow reaches out a hesitant hand, lands it on Regina's forearm and when she is not immediately thrown off she draws Regina into the apartment, it smells of coffee and cookies, Regina is almost sure it smells of cookies, how terribly domestic, her stomach rumbles.

"You left the hospital," Snow says, all her attention on Regina, even as Robin slowly follows them, closing the door to the apartment gently. Snow leads Regina to the table, to a chair, Regina takes the seat, her feet killing her, the shoes, flats though they are, feel pinched, they hurt terribly, but there is no way she would ever entertain the idea of being barefoot and pregnant in Snow White's home.

"Was I meant to be held there?" Regina says, unbuttoning her coat, she can feel Robin hovering behind her; can see Snow's eyes flick up between him and Regina uncertainly.

"No, of course not!" Snow defends, she sinks into a chair herself, the effort it takes, one hand on the back of the chair, the other flat on the tabletop, would be funny if it hadn't been Regina only seconds earlier.

David is in the kitchen, he looks over the island, his voice raised to be heard, "Whale says you need more treatment, nutrients-"

"I'll have him tell me himself, thank you," Regina snaps, rubbing at her rotund belly, her daughter is kicking, so hard that Regina can't help the grimace that decorates her face, nor the way she shifts uncomfortably in the chair.

"Are you alright?" Snow asks, her hand on Regina's forearm again, her fingers curled gently over the maroon wool of Regina's coat.

"She's kicking," Regina answers, shaking her head, her eyes closed, but then she's reaching behind her, reaching for Robin, knows where he is without looking, she grabs his large hand, warm and rough hands, and pulls until he sinks into the chair next to hers. She guides his hand under her unbuttoned coat, against the thin material of the black dress, he gasps, a happy, a joyful, exclamation falling from his lips as his daughter's tiny foot presses against his palm.

"Is this her father?" Snow asks, nearly whispering, when Regina turns her gaze up to look at her, it's to see Snow nearly in tears, watching Robin's hand intently.

"Yes," Regina answers, just as quietly.

David clears his throat, "We just baked some cookies, Regina, Robin, would you like a couple? We made way too much."

Regina nearly snorts, snapped from whatever emotion was just crashing over her, she's able to contain herself, but here they are, Snow and Charming, baking cookies, they have lost their memories, are no doubt scared and unsure, Snow is about to have a baby, a baby she does not remember conceiving or planning or anything at all, and they are baking cookies. Regina's stomach rumbles again, "Yes, we'd love some, thank you," Regina responds for both her and Robin, "maybe a coffee?"

Snow frowns, "Regina, I don't think that's really a goo-"

"You aren't my keeper," Regina says, less of a snap, more a statement of fact, she says it like she would say the sky is blue, like water is wet.

Snow still flinches as if Regina had screamed it in her face, "Of course not," she agrees though, she swallows before she turns her head towards David and smiles, a small nod.

They wait, as if through consensus, for the cookies and coffee, they wait for David to be seated with them, before the questions start flying.

"You remember," David says, and actually it's not a question at all, but it's not nearly the accusation Regina had expected.

"I wasn't taken by the curse," Regina explains, she nods before sipping at her coffee, a quiet moan escapes her at the taste, the bitterness of the coffee, meets her tongue, her eyes are closed, still savoring the heavenly feeling as she continues, "I remember."

"So," Snow stretches out the word, "it wasn't-" she falters, voice stuttering, she looks terribly uncomfortable when Regina opens her eyes to look at her, "you're not the one who, you know-"

"Cursed you?" Regina interrupts. Snow looks vaguely guilty for having asked, but David just has this prim little look on his face, like he knows she did it and is waiting for her to say so. Regina laughs, a quiet sound, quick, light, and gone before anyone can hear it doesn't sound like laughter at all, "No, dear, _you_ did."

Snow gapes audibly, lovely face not so lovely as her mouth hangs open, big eyes blinking slowly. David gets angry, angry on behalf of them both, "Excuse me?!" he questions, brows downturned, and hatred bubbles up under Regina's skin, she may have come to grips with holding some care for Snow, the child she'd been forced to care after for so many years, but there is no such tug on her heart for David, who is most often belligerent and annoying self-righteous.

"Regina, I don't have magic," Snow shakes her head, pushes her hot chocolate away, even as Regina reaches out and easily snags a cookie off the plate in the center of the table, Robin's hand still warm and comforting over Regina's pregnant belly.

"That which required magic, I did help you with," Regina admits, "but the curse is yours, you paid the price," Regina takes a dainty bite of the cookie, finds it delicious, her stomach rumbling again, the baby kicking as if to agree with the hunger that roils, the second bite is not nearly as restrained.

"The price?" David echoes, sharing a glance with Snow, frowning that frown, as if his man pain is all encompassing,

Snow clutches her husband hand, her breath short, "The thing I love most?" her gaze spins from David back to Regina, "The heart of the thing I love most? But David, he's right here."

Regina finishes her cookie and moves that hand down, down to rest over Robin's, his large hand, warm, safe, "I took his heart for you, and you crushed it," Regina says, and flinches back even though she expected it when David makes to stand from his chair, the legs screeching against the floor.

"David!" Snow screeches, tugging on him.

It's a surprise when Robin's hand slips out from under Regina's, when he stands as David does, tall and deadly, a look in his eyes, and Regina remembers the blood all over him, staining his clothes, it is the same look in his eye now, "Robin!" she calls, grabbing at his sleeve.

The fear in her voice stops David, only one step taken to round the table but he stills, it makes Snow look at her, but Regina only has eyes for Robin, his breath harsh in through his nose, glaring at David. It takes a softer call of his name for him to look down at her, his handsome face tormented, his mind torn to pieces, eyes blank, he's remembered something else, Regina realizes, when it happened she can't pinpoint, but it's comfort she offers him, tugging his sleeve once more, "Robin, come here, Robin, please," he collapses back into his chair, the hand back on her belly, the blood red ribbon around his wrist, and it pinches Regina's brow, is the ribbon how he remembers? Blood magic, it's the strongest magic.

"David, sit down," Snow's voice snaps, an order, one that David does not ignore.

Robin is nearly shaking, Regina weaves a hand in his hair, tugs on it softly, other hand over his on her belly, their daughter kicking and kicking against his hand, as if she knows how upset he just became, "What did you see?" Regina asks him softly, but there is no hiding the conversation from Snow and David's curious ears.

"You were hurt," Robin answers.

Regina frowns, she'd been hurt more then she had been well during the missing year, she does not know which time he speaks of, can't tell what he has just remembered, and he doesn't seem like he wants to speak of it. She soothes him as best as she's able, but turns her attention back to Snow and David.

And she tells them everything (everything they need to know, which is not nearly everything), she tells them about Zelena.

"She's green?" David asks, as if Regina is pulling some joke on him.

"Probably not anymore," Regina thinks aloud, "the curse changes things, to make things seem less magical." Dwarves and fairies become human, people turned to animals become people once more, the curse will have sucked the green from Zelena's skin.

Snow reaches across the table, as if to offer her hand to Regina, but Regina is still petting Robin's hair, is still holding his hand to her belly, she does not reach for the comfort Snow offers.

They fall back into silence, the coffee cold in Regina's mug, only the more burned cookies left on the plate, Robin is still worrisomely quiet, what did he remember?

"Your hair," Snow says suddenly, breaking the quiet, interrupting the steady drip drop of a leaky pipe from their bathroom, a wistful smile growing on her lips, eyes focused on the cascading waves thrown over Regina's shoulder.

If the curse had taken Regina, her hair would be about a foot shorter, but the curse did not take her, her hair is long and thick and dark, curling gently. Regina never thought she'd come back here, back home, to Maine, to Storybrooke, her hair had been long in the Enchanted, and she kept it long because it was a way to separate one Regina from another, Henry's mother, that Regina, wore her hair short, but Henry was gone and so she kept it long, but now they were back, back, Henry's room just down the hall, all his things laid out, covered in dust, but intact. Henry was still gone though, he would not recognize her whether her hair was long or short, he was gone.

"You look so beautiful, Regina," Snow says, blinking wetly, "I always knew pregnancy would suit you."

Regina closes her eyes, the urge to tell Snow exactly how well pregnancy had suited her in the past nearly too much to stifle, the stupid girl, always saying the wrong thing,

Knocks on the door.

Emma's come back.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	50. Chapter 50

"Woah," the blonde woman says, David calls her Emma and hugs her tightly, Snow too, the embrace awkward around her huge baby bump, the same baby bump the blonde regards with eyes wide, eyebrows raised, mouth slapping shut after seconds spent gaping, "are the two for real?" she questions, gesturing at Snow and at Regina, her voice disbelieving and even a bit disapproving.

"How are you here?" Regina plies herself up from the chair, accepting Robin's help when he rushes to extend it, "Why are you here?" Regina asks, voice rising, something related to panic on her features, Robin steps with her when she steps towards the blonde, but there's desperate hope as well, as she searches behind the blonde woman for something, for _someone_, "Is Henry with you?" she breathes.

_Henry_, her boy, Robin remembers, vague across his mind, her boy, her son, who she lost and mourned, but here he is.

Robin rests his hand at the small of Regina's back, looking from her to the woman, who, once he gets a good look at her, looks startlingly like Snow White. The blonde shrugs, eyes following Robin's hand, questions gathering in her mind, "Yeah, uh he's out in the car. He's asleep."

Regina scoffs, "Well wake him up! He's home!" she makes to waddle to the door, perhaps to stomp down the stairs; it's the blonde that blocks her path, hands raised to still her.

"Regina, wait," her face looks horribly pained, eyes narrowed as if she expects some explosion to the face.

"_Wait_?" Regina squawks incredulously, tries to sidestep, only to have the blonde step with her, but the blonde is afraid to touch Regina, eyeing her huge bump and stepping further away, "My son is right down in the street and you're telli-"

"Henry doesn't remember," she says in a rush. Snow lets out a sound at the words, instantly looking to Regina and looking sympathetic.

Robin is still by her side, the words just spoken have her deflate somehow, shrinking down, her strength leaving her in one huge gush that is awful to see, "What?" she asks, her voice small, and so terribly sad, "What do you mean? _You're_ here," she questions, she sinks into the one armed embrace Robin offers, "_you_ remember."

She's close to crying, and Robin can see how shocked that fact makes the blonde, has her uneasy on her feet, looking from Regina to David, "There was," Emma shrugs again, "a potion, but there wasn't enou-"

"He doesn't remember me?" Regina asks, clearing her throat and throwing back her head, her wall rebuilding brick by agonizing brick, but her hand snags the lapel of Robin's jacket, holds it with a white knuckled grip.

Emma shakes her head, "No," she answers.

Regina shrinks in against Robin, chin still held high, tears gathering, but they won't fall, Robin knows she won't let them, not here, not with these people around her, she takes the comfort he offers her though, with no shame.

And Emma explains about the pirate, about New York, about a suitor that attempted on her life, a flying monkey and that's when Regina tells her who the enemy is, "The Wicked witch of the West," Regina tells her, not a single hint of humor on her face.

Emma laughs, the only one to laugh, "What?" she asks after seconds, face falling, "You're serious? Oz is real?"

Regina turns to look at Snow, "I don't believe she'll have changed her name, no one was meant to remember, she'll not have seen the need."

"How _do_ you remember?" Emma asks, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, suspicious, she is entirely surprised when Robin takes a protective stance between Regina and her, as if her suspicion is not something Robin must protect Regina from.

Regina lays a hand on his arm, fingers curling around his forearm, "Robin procured a pair of slippers; you might remember them from the movie-"

"The ruby slippers?" she rolls her eyes.

"They're silver actually," Regina corrects, "but yes, he gave them to me right before the curse swept over us, I-"

"Seems pretty convenient," the woman interrupts her again, her disrespect, her narrowed eyes, they have Robin seething and unimpressed.

Regina huffs out an irritated breath, "Does it really?" she hisses, "Yes, how convenient, my soul mate has no memory of me, nor does my son know me, I'm as big as a whale and alone, what a genius plan," she steps around Robin, advancing on the blonde that realizes she maybe went too far.

He does not want to embarrass her here, ever in fact, but she's angry and hurt and ready to lash out, she'll regret whatever she says next, "Regina?" Robin says her name, pleading, and she immediately switches her attention to him. "I need you alone a moment," Robin says before grabbing her hand and guiding her out the door to the hall, the door that had stayed open when the blonde walked in, Robin closes it softly now.

"Who the hell is that gu-" he hears the blonde say before the door cuts her off.

When he hugs Regina she absolutely falls into the embrace, "You're not alone," Robin whispers into her hair, the sweet vanilla smell of it familiar and lovely.

"Can I please see Roland?" she hiccups out a breath, holding onto him tighter, she holds her breath for five seconds, lets it out, "I-" she stutters, grappling at his jacket, "I need-"

Robin loosens his embrace, leans back to look at her face.

"Of course!" Robin holds her hands in his after loosening her fingers from the fabric across his chest, cradles them as if they are brittle birds with fragile wings, the tears streaming down her face, suddenly there, a dam broken, have him near crying with uselessness, he has nothing to ease her suffering but his love, which she does not trust, he can see it there, something he has forgotten holding her back, he has nothing but to present her with Roland. "He's been asking for you," Robin assures her, he hears the door behind him open, feels and sees the way Regina stiffens, the way her face closes down, but there is no hiding the tear tracks on her face, nor the redness of her eyes, the puffiness of her cheeks.

Her eyes swish over whoever has just left the apartment, and back to him, she bites her lip before she says, so quietly, "He can't possibly remem-"

"He _has_ been asking for you," Robin assures her, hand pushing her hair over her shoulder, before swiping her tears from her cheeks.

David clears his throat uncomfortably, "Ready for that ride, Robin?" he asks.

Robin turns his head to look at the other man, "Is there room in your contraption for Regina and I both?"

The man shrugs, "Yeah, it'll be tight, and there's only the two seat belts, but," he shrugs again.

"Thank you," Robin says, Regina quiet next to him.

* * *

A boy, a teenager, is asleep in the yellow car parked in front of the building, his face smushed against the glass, what is clearly drool trickling down his chin.

Regina stands for five minutes looking at him, Robin would give her all the time in the world, but David clears his throat, hesitantly touches Regina's arm. "Come on," David urges.

"He's grown so much," Regina whispers, as if the boy might wake. She slams her eyes shut with a shake of her head and turns away.

She's rigid and quiet in David's truck, staring out the window, an absentminded hand running over her belly, too quiet.

And when David stops the truck as far up the trail as he can go, she's quiet then too, accepting Robin's help in getting to the ground, she nods to David, then shakes her head when he offers to wait to give her a ride back, "Thank you," Robin tells the other man again, shaking his hand, before turning to her and guiding her up into the dark trees, guiding her to his camp, and the boy that has been begging for his Mama.

Hand in hand with her, leading her towards the camp. This is where I belong, he thinks, with her, next to her, this is right.

When he turns his head to look at her, to make sure she is not overexerted, Regina looks back with a fond smile, "I'm fine," she says lightly, the moon large and low in the sky, showcasing her beautiful face, rounded slightly by her pregnancy, she squeezes his hand, "stop looking so worried."

Robin clears his throat, squeezes her hand in return, looks for a way to ease his worries, "Did we have names picked?" he asks suddenly, watching from the side of his eye as she rests her free hand atop her bump.

It takes her a prolonged moment, before she lets out a breath, her answer quiet, "No," she turns her face away, Robin can only see some of her nose and her dark, dark hair, "I was afraid to name her."

He stops them, if he strains his ear he can hear the camp over the next little rise, can hear men chattering, equipment clinking, and even Roland's high giggle, he stops them and turns to her, his hand falling into her thick hair and tucking it behind her ear, she swallows, looks down, she shakes her head, "In case-" she shakes her head again.

"That healer said she was healthy, and whole," Robin questions, thumb swiping across her cheek, fingers trailing down her neck.

"Yes," the hand she had over their child travels to his chest instead, wiggles under his unbuttoned jacket. She looks up into his eyes, her dark eyes unsure, "They have a technology here that lets us see her before she's born. It's called an ultrasound, I'm going tomorrow to see her, if you wan-"

"You would allow me?" Robin interrupts, his excitement and wonder too great, to see his daughter, before even her wailing lungs fill with air, it must surely be magic.

Her smile is instant, wide and so, so incredibly beautiful, "You want to?"

Robin gathers her hands together, cradles them to his chest, smiling at her, completely smitten by her, her disbelief in him though, has a frown growing just as fast as his smile, "Miraculous is too little a word for how wonderful the gift of seeing her would be to me."

She lets out a breath, head bowing, eyes slamming shut.

"When did I give you such reason to doubt me?" Robin whispers, anguish creeping like ice water over his chest. Regina shakes her head, "What happened to us?" he asks her.

"You said I was a monster," she whimpers, crying again, tearing her hands from him.

Shock has his mouth hanging open, he shakes his head violently when she makes to step away from him, "no," he barks, and then gentler a second time, "no, don't run from me," confusion has him floundering, he could not have said such a thing, "I said this to you?" he asks and she nods.

Her dark eyes meet his, pain unimaginable in their depths, "You looked me right in the face and spat it at me, Robin. And then you left."

He shakes his head again, "You aren't a monster," he says, knows it deep in his soul, he can't fathom having said such a thing, would never in his life call this woman, this beautiful kind woman who he loves with his everything, a monster.

She sighs, tries to pull away from him, "I would not let a monster near my son," Robin lets her escape his hold, does not want her against her will, "I would not love a monster, Regina, I don't know what idiocy or madness led me o say it, but it is not the truth, I _love you_," he declares to her shaking back, she's hugging herself, facing away from him.

"Please," he takes a step towards her, his hand extended-

"Papa!" and suddenly Roland is colliding against his legs, nearly tipping him over.

"Whoa!" Robin barks, "easy there, my boy."

But Roland isn't looking at Robin, though he's holding onto Robin's jacket, no, Roland is staring at Regina as she spins around, as she smiles a wet and nervous smile at the boy.

"Hi," Roland greets.

She sobs out a breath, tries to smile for the boy, "Hi, Roland," she greets in return, she bends a little, before gasping and springing her hand to her back and straightening, she was trying to be eye to eye Robin knows.

"Are you alright?" Roland asks before Robin can, the boy taking a step towards her.

"Yes, sweetheart, I'm okay," she answers, smiling that watery smile again, that bittersweet smile, here is another child who does not remember her, and it is tearing her apart, Robin can see how it tears her apart, but Roland does know her, he must, he's been begging for his Mama and here she is.

The endearment flowing from her lips has Roland cocking his head, "What's your name?" he asks her, and Robin can see Regina flinch at the question, but the boy isn't done, "Is your name Regina?"

Her eyes snap to Robin's then back to the boy's, "yes," she answers quietly.

Roland smiles, sudden and wide, taking the last step to be before her, he grabs her hand, relief washing over his tiny features, "You're my Mama, aren't you?" he asks, already giddy with joy, how does he remember her?

She sobs at that, sinking to the ground, collapsing almost, Robin there to help her down, she wraps her arms around Roland and hugs him, squeezes him so, so tightly, but the boy is doing it back, the boy crying now too, "Mama," he says over and over.

"Robin!" John calls from up the ridge, "Where have you been, all day w- oh," John falters to a stop, he has seen Regina crouched with Roland in her arms.

It's not quite a glare that he gives Robin, but it is disapproving, Robin boils at the look.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


	51. Chapter 51

"Marry me?" Robin whispers, only the trees hear him, the rocks and the dirt. He can see the way she would shake her head in his mind, can see how her face would transform with her panic if he ever asked her.

Robin sighs and runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he turns to spy the tents of camp through the trees. His own tent, in this new and still frighteningly unknown world, is dark green, some failed attempt at blending into the nature around it perhaps.

Regina and Roland are still sleeping, he hopes they are anyway, she could use the rest, and the boy could use the cuddling. That's how he'd left them, woman and boy smushed into one sleeping bag, when he'd left nearly an hour before. Gone to start a fire, to start breakfast, to take a piss in the woods, and to apparently share his frustration with the forest as he gushes out a huge breath before he starts to walk back.

Around the campfire the night before, when she hadn't been focused entirely on Roland, she'd told Robin what needed to be done. Find Zelena, and when he had asked if they were to kill her, and he was sure that it needed doing, and still does think so, Regina had looked away, her brow crumpled. "She's my sister," she'd said softly.

He hadn't known what to say then, besides a soft, "I know," without his memories he can't even comfort the woman he loves, his frustration had nearly been overflowing, he had ghosted a hand down her back, had leaned in to kiss her sadness away, and she'd drawn away from him in response.

"Morning, lover boy!" John says as Robin approaches, digging into a plate of what looks like oatmeal, more seeming to get in his beard then in his mouth. The man is acting strange, in a way that puts Robin on edge, has him looking closely at his oldest friend. John had made his feelings known the night before, exactly what he thought of having Regina among them, and hadn't seemed troubled by Robin's angry defense nor Roland's squawked indignation.

Robin ignores the man, but tries to smile when Arthur claps a hand to his back, it's more like a grimace, he passes them both and unzips his tent, the smile becomes true when his eyes meet the beauty that is his family. Regina is moving about, looking as if about to wake, she's frowning, a whimper falls from her mouth.

"My love," Robin says softly after he zips the flap closed after himself, keeping as much of the morning chill away from her, he wonders if he'd called her that, My love, before the missing time, before her fear, before he'd shattered her trust, but why would he hurt her, why-

"Hey," she greets, voice a croak, eyes blinking open, the arm Roland is resting his head on twitches, her hand balling up and then stretching.

"You can't feel your arm at all, can you?" Robin asks as he kneels beside the pair, watching as pain flickers across her face. "I can move him?"

"Could you, please," she murmurs, voice a little less throaty, but still filled with sleep, she sounds distracted already, just awoken and her mind already racing, her face pinches once again, a sharp breath falls from her nose.

"Are you alright?" Robin opens the sleeping bag, scoops up the boy with drool down the side of his face and gently places Roland on top of the bright blue bag that belongs to him, the bag Robin had tried to make do with last night.

"I'm fine," she answers, her eyes wide suddenly, she's shifting to lay on her side, an arm sneaking behind her to knead at her back. His hand joins hers there, the touch hopefully a comfort, she's sleeping in one of his shirts, the material isn't soft, but it's warm with the heat of her.

"And the baby?"

She smiles, "She's dancing the rumba in there."

Robin tilts his head in question as his other hand goes to her belly, and under his fingers he can feel an elbow, not a second later it's the baby's foot maybe, but she is moving like mad, he's in awe of what a woman's body can make, can hold within itself, in awe of Regina even as she let's out a soft curse, "She'll be a wild child," he chuckles, "Is the rumba a dance here?"

Regina laughs softly, her head tilting to rest on the pillow as Robin massages her lower back, "Not so much in Maine," she snickers, "but in other parts of this world."

"Will you show me?" He eyes the bump with exaggeration, "In a few months time?"

Her eyes close softly, "We'll see if you can keep up."

Robin merely looks at her for a moment, her powders and pigments are more on the fabric of the pillow then on her face and so she looks bare, and lovely, if tired, that long hair of hers a bit of a mess, an inky mass of tangles. "Should I leave you to sleep?" he asks.

"With the way the sun is shining I should really get up," she cracks an eye open, "we'll be late to the appointment otherwise."

A smile breaks across his face, he's going to see his daughter today. Robin helps her up when she rearranges herself, she grimaces again once she's sitting, breathing in deep before letting it out. "What's the matter?" Robin asks, frowning and looking at her in worry.

"My back aches," she answers, a hand fluttering about as if to say it is trivial, but her pain is anything but, "and I need to pee," she laughs.

"I'll go with you, come on, up," Robin says, standing and holding out his hands for her to grab. Another gasp leaves her when she forces herself up, once standing she looks even a little bit dizzy, she reaches for Robin's arm with one hand, her other hand doesn't leave her back, not as Robin helps her slip on a pair of comfy warm trousers that are absurdly long on her, and not when he places a pair of slippers that must be his own on her feet, a searing hot memory rams its way inside Robin's skull then, as he's holding her around the ankle and putting the slipper on her foot,_ the silver slippers, he sees, blood on him, he feels, the screams of the man he'd taken them from, he hears, he needed them for Regina, or else the baby would be gone, the green witch had plans to rewrite it, rewritten the curse and the baby would have been no more, ripped from existence by the curse, the purple cloud, he needed to save the baby, the baby_-

"Robin," Regina asks, fingers, her fingers, running through his hair, tugging and soothing, he's still kneeling at her feet, her ankle held in his grasp.

"I'm sorry," Robin shakes himself, lets her go before he leans his forehead to her belly, his hands hold her at the hips, he's breathing through the disorientation.

"The slippers," Regina asks quietly, still soothing at his crown.

He swallows, and nods.

"You were," she falters, but her fingers go on without pause, "drenched in dried blood, when you came back."

"I did what I had to," he feels it as certainly as he feels his love for her, but it doesn't make the horror of his visions any less gruesome. He'd done what he needed to do to get the slippers, to save his daughter from being ripped from being.

He takes more of her comfort, on his knees before her, until she starts to shift uncomfortably, he lets out a strained puff of laughter, "We're going, sorry, sorry," he says. When they exit the tent it is to the murmuring of his men, normal morning conversation, but for John, who mumbles something that is lost but for it's tone. Robin ignores him as he walks past.

* * *

She calls David, asking for a ride into town, with her cell phone when they get back, that strange little box, she laughs after she hangs up and sees the distrust in Robin when he eyes it with suspicion. "It's not magic," she tells him, "come look."

He scoots closer to her, she's sitting once again on the sleeping bag, still in that overly large shirt, but her legs are bare, the comfy trousers had been too long in the leg, but very much too narrow in the hips, he'd helped her take them off, hands gliding over smooth flesh until he'd seen her blush, one of his hands makes its way to her knee now, their sides right against each other, his other arm slung around her back, "What does it do?"

Her thumb swipes across the glass, new colors and words and little symbols come to life, "Years ago they were just phones, ways to bring your voice all across the world, they needed these strings called wires to work. You can have a conversation with someone hours away without any delay."

"It certainly sounds like magic," Robin grumbles.

She smiles, "But they've grown since then, no more wires, and they can do many things. Here, look at these," she presses one of the symbols.

Boxes of images appear under the glass, she presses one and the little picture becomes big, it fills up the space, it's a picture of a boy, of her boy. "Your son," Robin says quietly, squeezing the arm slung around her as he leans closer, the boy in real life is more a man then these pictures show.

"He looks so different now, these are old," her thumb slides left, a new image appears, another of her boy, this one he is unaware of the device, he's looking away, only his profile on display, that nose he's getting close to growing into is proud and straight, his fringe lighted by sunlight from behind him.

"Not so different," Robin tries to console. "We'll bring him back to you."

She nods, thumb still sliding through the images, so many images, and not all of Henry, there's a fair bit of food. "What's that? Go back," Robin urges.

"My lasagna," Regina answers him, "it's the best in town."

"In the world, perhaps?" he teases. "You took these images of what you cook because you're proud?"

Regina glances at him, and looks fairly sheepish, "It was a long time ago now, but yes," she answers.

"And you should be," he assures, "I'd like very much to get a home cooked meal from you, Your Majesty," he grins, "those pictures have me drooling."

"Well don't slobber on me," she's smiling, "Roland did enough of that last night."

They laugh together, Robin pokes his tongue between his lips and looks at her, basks in her, in her laugh, in her warmth beside him. He can see the moment she thinks this is a lie, the moment she remembers what he'd said, her laughter dies, she looks away from him.

He lets out a breath, "Regina," she does not turn to look at him, "why would I call you," he doesn't want to repeat it, doesn't want to see her flinch, "what I called you? What was happening?"

Her eyes close, her chin drifting down, "A group of men," she stutters out a breath, "I killed them."

"Why?"

"They had hurt you in the past, nearly killed you, and me," she opens her eyes, licks her lips, looks up at him, he can't read what is behind her dark eyes, "they were trying again."

Robin can't fathom why he would have take exception to her defending herself, defending him. "And for that I spurned you? I was sick perhaps, or mad?"

He's trying to make light, and his flippancy in the face of her hurt is exactly the wrong track, he can see her building her walls.

"You seemed fairly lucid," she answers him, she moves her knee, and he takes the hint and removes his hand. But she doesn't remove herself from his embrace, nor seem to want him to remove himself.

"I believe there is nothing for me to say in my defence until my memories return," Robin says to her, closing his eyes as he breathes in a tightly controlled breath, as he tries to tame his frustration at this situation, not with her, he could never fault her for her hurt, "I wish it were otherwise," and he does, but he can't remember why he had done what he had, why he had said what he had said, and though he feels no doubt, none at all, that he does love her, more than the world, he can see how she would be wary of trusting him, trusting him while his memories are ridden with holes.

"I love you, Robin," Regina says, her bottom lip trembling, "I want to believe what you've said, but I couldn't bear it if you woke up and you looked at me like," her eyes close, a tear falling, "like, I'd taken advantage of you," she shakes her head, "like I'd-"

He draws her into a full embrace, cradling her against him as her legs curl, as she cries. She tries to quiet herself, sniffling and wiping at her face, Robin only holds her tighter.

It doesn't take her very long to force herself to stop. Feeling the way she coils up all her hurt, her dread, her terrible sadness, the way her muscles tense, her body held rigid, Robin wants to help her. He feels useless.

He's still holding her when Roland wakes. The boy is nearly as disoriented as Regina had been when his eyes blink open. Roland wipes at his face with his sleeve as he sits up, he slurs some words out that, despite Robin's absolute best attempt to decipher, are totally incomprehensible.

"Good morning, my boy," Robin says softly, smiling at Roland when the boy looks towards him. Roland moves immediately to join the pile of warm bodies so close to him, he wraps his arms around Regina and leans against her side, he lets out a massive sigh.

"Are you going back to sleep, silly?" Regina asks, draping her arm over the boy.

"nuh-uh," Roland denies, "I'm just saying hi to the baby. Hi, baby," he drops a quick kiss to Regina's belly.

Regina titters out a laugh, her hand cupping the back of Roland's head, her fingers in his curls.

* * *

They all dress, Regina making both boys turn away as she does so, they all dress, her in the clothes she walked into camp with the day before, Roland in slightly warmer wear than yesterday, and Robin in the shirt Regina had slept in. Robin grins at her after pulling it over his head, "You smell like vanilla," he tells her, hugging her to his chest and breathing against her hair.

She hadn't put any perfume on, after washing the hospital smell from herself she'd put lotion on, passion fruit lotion though. "I think you're imaging things," she shakes her head at him, hugging her arms around his waist.

"I'll be imagining things all day then," Robin kisses the side of her head and lets her go, shrugging his coat on over the pale blue shirt.

Roland goes careening out of the tent, a content child looking for his Crayon's after Regina asks him for decoration for his sister's room.

Regina exits at a much slower pace, attempting to look graceful as she bends down to get through the flap, huffing out a breath and knowing she's failed when she comes out the other side.

Farouk hands a her a tin cup filled to the brim with what smells like coffee when she approaches the fire, he smiles at her.

The scars on his neck are nearly covered over by a scarf, Your Majesty, is carried on the air, blowing past her ear. She nods her thanks to him, trying to recall how long it took him to speak to her before, in the year that he does not remember, she takes the cup and merely smells the brew for a moment. The child is a special one, he says to her, his magic giving his thoughts sound, but only to her.

Regina sips the coffee, "Every child is," she answers, being elusive, but it's no use with Farouk, who sees the truth, even if his memories are lost to him.

A seer.

She glances to the left, where Walter is packing a bag, and remembers the old man that had passed away, who had passed on his gift. She had heard Walter wondering about the fate of his grandfather the night before, and Tuck too, had been wondering about his family, his brother, she'd shuddered and been unable to tell either of them the truth, that the people they sought for were dead.

She'll be blind.

Regina takes another drag of coffee, no sugar, no cream, it's a thick hit of caffeine, absolutely what she needs as a headache seems to be popping up at the back of her neck. "Do you remember, Farouk?" she asks, with no real hope, but he's magic, a rare kind-

No, he shakes his head, sadly maybe, but I see.

"What do you see?"

He smiles, his eyes flick toward where Robin is looking through bags for some utensils, and then they are back on her, two halves reunited, he makes the wind say, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile, with his welcome.

Regina's mouth opens softly, her brow creases, she swallows and looks away, hiding the emotion she is sure all over her face, "Thank you for the coffee," Regina tries to say through the lump in her throat.

* * *

The sight of the yellow bug waiting on the dirt road is enough to have panic rising up in Regina, her steps don't stop, if anything they are faster. Henry, she thinks, nerves have her balling up her fists. Robin reaches for one of those balled fists, he eases it open, and interlaces their fingers.

"Good morning," Henry says when she and Robin make it down the slight decline, blinking up at Regina without any sort of recollection in his eyes, without any more emotion than slight curiosity.

It nearly makes Regina cry right there, but she doesn't want to look strange to him, and she thinks she's already cried far too much in Robin's arms, so she greets him in return, her hand still fisted, the other tightening its hold of Robin, she might be hurting him, but she can't let go, and can't ease. She looks to Emma, "I called your-" she cuts herself off, your father she was going to say, but, "David," she finishes lamely.

Emma tilts her head, eyebrows raised at the near slip, "And he called me, something was keeping him busy. Do you think you'll fit in the bug?" she asks, patting the chipped hull of the yellow behemoth as she does so.

It's a joke perhaps, but Regina isn't quite sure whether she'll fit or not, she bites her lip and looks at the bug tentatively, she eyes Henry tentatively too, was David so heartless not to realize what seeing Henry could do to her? Or was it kindness that had David think Emma would be a good choice as replacement?

Emma sobers for a moment, really looks, her eyes going down and then back up over Regina's frame, Emma frowns, "We'll get you in the front with the seat way back, Henry doesn't need leg room."

"Hey!" Henry interjects, gesturing down at himself, and Regina is nearly thrown into tears again, damn hormones sloshing around, he's nearly as tall as her now, the little boy really is gone, a young man in his place. She's missed so much time, even before the year away from this world, she'd missed so much damn time with him.

"Hey, what?" Emma laughs, ruffling at Henry's hair, "I still got a few inches on you, kid, don't forget it!"

Robin's hand tugs at hers, until she's right next to him, Regina lets Emma and Henry's back and forth, their light-hearted griping to each other, wash over her. Robin leans towards her, kissing her temple and whispering in her ear, "We'll get him back," he tells her.

"Let me clear out a little space, and it'll be a ride fit for royalty," Emma says, a strange look on her face after the words are out, eyes flicking to Henry and then away, Henry catches it all with a keen gaze, he'd always been so observant. Emma opens the door and bends down into the bug, clattering some things to the floor space after she's flipped the driver's seat forward.

"Henry, is it?" Robin asks, still holding Regina's hand, grounding her.

Henry smiles and nods, looking pleased, "Yeah, you're friends with my Mom too?"

Regina can see the questions in Henry's eyes already, his thoughts churning, whatever performance Snow and David had tried to pull, if it had been anything like Emma's seconds ago god help them, had obviously done little but to arouse Henry's suspicions. He was no fool, Regina had not raised a fool. "No," she answers him.

The answer stops him short, he seems confused, as if she'd gone off script, "oh," he says, "then how do you know her?"

Regina shrugs, "She's a friend of David's, I was expecting him."

"I heard, yeah," Henry looks back at where Emma is cleaning up the bug, Regina's nonchalant answers seem to have quelled some of his inquisitive nature, but he looks up the incline, at all the trees, "What were you guys doing out here?"

"Camping," Robin supplies, "nothing like a night out in the woods."

"You're not really dressed for camping," Henry says, looking at Regina's dress and shoes and even her fashionable overcoat.

"Alright, let's see where everyone fits!" Emma says as she straightens, "You first Henry, get in the back."

Henry rolls his eyes, but even that is done with affection, Regina did this, gave them memories of care and of love, of gentle teasing and an easy mother and son bond, but watching it play out in front of her, watching Emma be the only mother Henry has ever known is a torture Regina didn't think she'd ever have to see. She thought she was never coming back from the Enchanted Forest, she thought she'd never see her baby again. And here he is, perfectly happy with his mother.

* * *

The car ride is painfully silent, it's so much like when Henry was little, right after he'd gotten the book, a sort of tense feeling in the air, unasked questions, it lacks the undertones of anger, but it's enough like then that Regina feels compelled to speak, if only to know that Henry will answer her. She asks about school, about his favorite subjects, Regina can't turn to look at him, her belly too large and the car decidedly too small, but just hearing his voice talk about the things he enjoys is soothing.

Emma smiles at Henry in the rear view mirror after a minute of him rambling about his latest English assignment, he'd been in the advanced class.

"Your mother must be so proud of you," Regina says, her throat thick, Regina is so, so proud of him, of the man he's becoming, proud of his inquisitive nature, so proud that he does so well in school, proud just thinking of when he will go to Yale or Harvard or Oxford, some respected place of learning where he'll shine, she has always been so, so proud of him. Regina sees the face Emma makes at the statement, a mix of sadness and guilt, but something unapologetic somehow too, before Regina turns to look out at the Maine scenery racing by.

"I am, kid," Emma says after a moment too long.

Regina can feel the way Henry's eyes dig into the back of her head.

Robin asks him something then, and keeps a conversation going all the way into town, all the way to the hospital.

"We'll have lunch, meet at Granny's?" Emma says, and it's in her voice, in her eyes, she knows how paltry the offering is as they all climb out. Regina having a terrible time trying to hitch herself up, but she doesn't take the hand Emma offers her after the blonde rounds the car, it's petty, but she can't make herself reach forward.

Henry clamors out from the drivers side after Robin, "Yeah, it was fun talking to you," he says, smiling, those suspicions of his reawakened it would seem, if they were ever really gone. The last out of the car is Regina.

It's Robin that answers for them both, "That sounds quite lovely," he accepts, his hand landing at the base of Regina's back and staying there as he comes to stand beside her.

Regina doesn't know quite what she's feeling, being with Henry is heaven, after so long away, but it's also terrible torture, his eyes look through her. He doesn't know her, he doesn't love her, she misses him, and it seems especially awful to miss someone who is standing right in front of you.

"That sounds like a plan," Regina says, gazing at Henry, showing too much of her turmoil probably, he tilts his head and frowns before she and Robin turn to go.

As soon as they enter the hospital, Robin opening the door for her, Robin is talking softly to her, "How are you?"

"I don't know," Regina answers wetly, shaking her head and leading him towards the front desk. "God, I don't even know. It doesn't seem real."

"Right on time!" Doctor Whale straightens from where he'd been leaning against the front desk, the nurse he'd likely been trying to flirt with takes the opportunity to jump from her chair and scurry off with her arm full of folders. He watches her go with a disappointed little frown before turning to Regina and Robin. "Are you ready to see your little girl?"

What a pointless question, Regina doesn't even think an answer is necessary, of course she is, she still doesn't quite believe it, that there is a healthy life inside of her, even though she can feel the way the baby kicks, the way she moves, hearing her heartbeat, seeing the outline of her face, there aren't words for that kind of reassurance. She rests her hands on top of her bump, after having Henry so close and so far away, she takes unfathomable comfort from feeling the little foot kick out at her hand.

"How's Mommy feeling?" Whale asks, and only seems to get more annoyingly smug and happy at Regina's unimpressed look.

"She's not in the mood for games this morning," Regina answers him.

Whale nods to Robin and twitches his head towards the hall, "Shall we then?"

They've taken only a few steps before Regina's name is thundered out by David, who has just wrenched open the doors, looking wildly around to spot her, and when he does it's with another call of her name as he stomps his way over.

David reaches for Regina's elbow when he's close enough to her. "I've got to talk to you," David says, breathless and panting slightly. Did he see Emma and Henry on his way in?

Regina frowns in response, "We have an appointment, David," she looks over her shoulder to the Doctor, nodding at him, asking him to wait with merely a look.

* * *

"We're seeing the baby," Robin adds, impatient and not trying to hide it, he wants to see his child, his and Regina's little girl. And the way David is holding Regina's arm, it makes Robin itch wanting to push the other man away, it's not a possessive hold, nor a violent one, but uncaring, he's gripping her too tight.

David is unsmiling, not a drop of good humor on his face, "We've found her, more like she found us."

Regina steps from foot to foot, dislodging David's hand from her person, "What does that mean?" she snaps, head bending forward before springing back up, she's licking her lips and obviously uncomfortable. She's been uncomfortable all day, Robin feels an idiot for having her sleep in a tent when it would have been easier on her, and on the baby, for her to sleep in her own house, in her soft bed. They'll sleep in that large white house tonight, he and Roland and Regina, Robin will make sure of it.

David takes a quick look at her, some concern plays around his eyes. "A woman, it was Zelena," David grinds his jaw a bit, "she approached Snow and me at the diner. She said she was a midwife."

"And?" Robin says, hands moving impatiently.

David shrugs, before resting his hands at his belted waist, "We rolled with it, we've got Zelena coming over soon, to talk and have some tea. We could do some kind of trap."

Regina is biting at her bottom lip, and Robin can't surmise if it's because of David's words or the pain in her back that she has done a terrible job hiding all morning.

"We can do that, right?" David asks, that brow of his turned down dramatically.

"She's a powerful witch," Regina says.

"But-"

"She's stronger than I am," Regina continues, "she has Rumple doing her bidding god knows where. I don't think any kind of trap we can orchestrate in an hour will work."

David's jaw snaps shut, dumbfounded and angry, "What are you talking about? She's coming over, she expects us to be there!"

"Is that my fault?" Regina snaps back, "I wasn't a part of your haphazard little foray into strategy, is this why you sent Emma? Because you were off playing war at the diner?" Regina grimaces, "If you'd sent me a damn text earlier we could have-" she gasps and nearly doubles over.

"Regina!" Robin is wrapping an arm around her immediately.

"I'm fine!" she grits out, straightening with a near snarl decorating her mouth.

"Girl!"

* * *

Regina turns at the voice, "Granny," she breathes, a nervous expression spreading across her face as the old woman limps towards her, and then crashes into her with a hug.

She remembers, Regina thinks, that nervous expression melting away as she sinks into the embrace, her face smooshing against the old woman's shoulder, the papery gown scratchy against her skin, she remembers. Relief the likes she didn't expect wash over her, Granny pats a hand down her long hair.

"Let me look at you," Granny says, hands on Regina's arms to push her back but keep her close, "idiot girl, look at you." Her eyes go the bump, Granny's face, that wrinkled face, it sings of delight.

"How do you remember?" Regina asks, overwhelmed by the old woman's presence and her affection, she'd thought she'd be alone, alone and pregnant and so, so lonely, but here she has Granny, and Roland, and Robin just a little, for only a little while before he remembers his anger and his true feelings. "You remember me?" her voice breaks, a smile blooms across her lips.

Granny cups her face, that rough but somehow gentle touch, a loving gesture before she nods, "Of course I do," Granny says, like it was a certainty, as if Regina is silly for asking.

"How?" David barks, looking genuinely discombobulated by what is happening before him, by the sight of anyone embracing Regina.

"I met up with a certain portal jumper before the curse hit," Granny's head tilts, her eyebrows rise, and Regina gets the distinct impression that it is a very long story.

"Jefferson?" Regina's face twists in question, his hats didn't work here, but that was before magic came to town, and he'd been missing, she had not seen him after returning to the old world, had had the fleeting wondering thought of where he'd run to, of whether he was glad to know her son was missing from her, as his daughter had been missing from him for so long. "You came through his hat?"

"Not just me, a few damn monkeys attacked as he was opening the portal, they took a chunk out of me," Granny chuckles, the sound filled with dark humor.

"You'll get sick! Or turn!" Regina frets, looking over Granny more carefully, she notices the bandages poking out at the neckline of the hospital gown and oversized sweater Granny wears.

Granny grabs Regina's hands as they rise, she holds Regina's hands in hers and draws them towards her chest, she shakes her head, "The wolf will keep that nasty shit out of my blood, don't you worry."

"You were meant to stay at camp?" Regina realizes, Granny was meant to stay safe in the shadows of the magical camp, safe where Zelena and Rumple couldn't see, meant to keep Regina's heart safe, and Roland safe too.

"Liam fell sick," Granny tells her, frowning, her fingers digging into Regina's upper arms after she lets go of her hands, even through her sweater and jacket Regina can feel the power flexing against her, "he couldn't call the shadows."

"But-" Regina breathes, horror in the exhalation.

"The Dark One came," Granny seethes, without her glasses her eyes shine brightly, unnaturally bright, they almost glow, "the camp scattered to the winds, but without the shadows we couldn't hide."

Regina had slept beside Roland just last night, she knows the boy is fine and whole and healthy, but Granny is speaking a nightmare, Regina feels the fear strangling her throat. "What happened? Did he hurt-"

"John took the boy and ran, I screamed at him to go," Granny smooths her grip, as if aware of the bruises she'd likely been leaving on Regina, "I did what I could to slow the Dark One down, but," she tilts her head, tears in those bright eyes that won't fall.

"How?" Regina looks closer at the old woman, looking for even more injuries, evidence of some sick torture, some sign that the Dark One had scooped her up in his grasp and toyed with her.

Granny grins, "The wolf," her eyes do glow, for a moment, it's enough to have Regina gasp, she hears another gasp from behind her, one of the three men watching. "It hurt worse then anything I've endured," Granny says, still with that grin, her teeth are pointed in that grin, "but I could feel the power in me, begging to be unleashed, just like years ago."

"But it was day? Was it not?" Robin interjects, grasping enough of the subject matter to look in awe at the old woman, he doesn't remember Granny, but he saw the wolf. "And when you arrived at my camp, just yesterday, the sun had risen. Wolves come with the moon."

Regina looks back towards him, but quickly back to Granny. Red could change whenever she wanted, and now it would seem her Grandmother can too.

Those pointed teeth gleam, "Nothing stops this wolf now," she chuckles.

"Did you," Regina reaches out to Granny's hand, to bring her back, she's losing her even now to the power, to the rush, she can see it, at her touch Granny looks to her, "damage him? Rumple?"

"I took a sizable bite out of him, he's made of ashes," Granny shakes her head at the phantom taste, "but he's more magic than man, I only slowed him down. He didn't know what I carried." Regina swallows, she nods subtly, they don't need to talk of her heart, not here, "And I don't think he knew what I'd taken from him, at least not right away, by the time he started tracking me I was over the mountains."

"What did you take?" David interjects, stepping forward, as if he's trying to force himself between the two women.

But Granny's focus is on Regina, "The Heart of the Kingdom?" Regina guesses, breathing it out quietly, remembering the destruction Rumple had wrought on the castle, destroying it like nothing seen before in that land.

Regina's first thought is that Rumple, whatever part of him that could fight Zelena's control, had let Granny take it, but the way Granny is breathing wild magic all around her now, as if it lives in her skin, her wolf just underneath the surface, Regina thinks she's underestimated werewolves for a very long time. "Where is it?

"In your vault," Granny whispers after looking to and fro, on her guard.

"How did you get in there?" Regina reels back, shocked that even someone she trusts could get in her most magically guarded places, shocked and deeply perturbed.

Granny grins that grin again, saying without words that it is another long story.

Regina turns to Doctor Whale, and then to Robin, "I need to go," she tells them both.

Whale nearly rolls his eyes, "I guess we'll reschedule? You might see her in person first though," he shoots over his shoulder as he turns to put her file back on the nurses station.

"I'll go with you," Robin says right away, but Regina shakes her head, she grasps his forearm.

"You need to go to Roland," she tells him, and the fear in her voice, she can't hide it from him. She'd noticed how strange John had been acting, she knew him well, she thought she did, during the missing year, and even when he was mistrustful of her, when he did not know her and was wary of the way Robin cared for her, even then he did not act as spiteful as he had last night when they all sat around the campfire. She should have said something to Robin sooner, but she didn't want to say something and be wrong, but now she knows the camp had fallen, and John's strange behavior might be evidence of something very, very wrong.

"I can't leave you!" Robin lands a hand on her belly, his eyes are earnest, but they are conflicted.

"Go to Roland," Regina begs him, "make sure he's safe, who knows what happened to John."

"He's," Robin closes his eyes, shakes his head in frustration, "been acting strange, I admit, but he would never hurt Roland-"

"The witch could be controlling him," David interrupts.

"Go," Regina urges him, letting go of his arm. "David, can you drive him? I'll go to Snow."

"This thing," David indicates Granny with a lift of his chin, "it's powerful? Will it help us defeat the witch?"

A feral grin, one to match any Granny could produce, stretches across Regina's lips, "Oh yes," she answers, she'd seen the power Rumple had gained from it, the Heart of the Kingdom, she thought she had seen a jewel those years ago when Leopold had dragged her down to see his most prized possession, whether it be a jewel, or an ancient heart, a magical relic, whatever the thing was, it was power. Zelena would pay for her terror, for her torture and her cruel jabs.

Will she pay with her life? Regina knows what Zelena would do in her place.

* * *

"You and Regina?" David says, as if now is the appropriate time, which it most definitely is not, Robin throws a frustrated look to the other man.

"What of it?" he says in return as he grabs at the handle of the door beside him, David's truck bounces like mad over the dirt road towards camp, Robin knows little of this machinery that looks like magic, but even he can tell some of the noises that rattle the vehicle after big bounces are not a good sound.

"I'm glad she's not alone," David answers him, his eyes not leaving the road.

"Because of her condition?" Robin guesses, his worry over Roland doesn't leave the forefront of his mind, but he wants to hear what David has to say.

David shakes his head, turning the wheel sharply at a curve in the road, the truck feels almost as if it could tip, Robin's hand tightens on the door. But David doesn't give more of an answer besides that shake of his head, not before the truck is screeching to a stop at the end of the now scraggly road. Both men jump out, racing up the embankment towards the camp.

Their flight looks to have been quite unnecessary after they crest the hill, the camp looks as it had earlier, with Robin's men doing as they do. Robin will not be content until he holds Roland in his own arms though, and he hates to think it, but he cannot trust even his oldest friend, he cannot.

"Papa!"

Roland comes running forward, right into Robin's arms, squealing when Robin lifts him off the ground.

"We're going to Regina's house," Robin breathes, hoping his boy can't feel how hard his heart is beating.

Roland smiles though, eyes wide, "Really?" he asks, then he starts to wiggle, desperately trying to get back to the ground. "I need to get my pictures!" he wails when it becomes obvious Robin won't let him go, "I made them for the baby's room!"

"Alright," Robin concedes, looking about before he drops Roland back down, he follows his skipping steps to the tent flap, "hurry, just those," he begs.

"What's the fuss?" Arthur asks, stopping in his steps when he sees Robin's hand flinch towards the dagger at his waist. "Robin?" he asks, confounded as he raises his hands slightly.

"I've not got time to explain," Robin tells him, "but trust me."

Robin asks that they trust him, when he's acting strange and nearly drawing his weapon on them, asks they trust him when he doesn't, he can't, trust a single one of them. But Arthur nods, easing back a step. "I do, of course I do."

"I need to take Roland out of here. Where's John?" Robin says before turning his head slightly, calling into the tent, "Hurry up, my boy!"

Arthur shrugs, "I don't know, he was here about an hour ago."

Roland sweeps the flap open, "Okay, Papa!" Roland says, "Ready!" stepping out with a little backpack with some picture of a masked man on it strapped to him, the bag nearly as tall as himself. "I'm ready to go!" Roland takes Robin's hand and is easily led through camp, calling out various good byes to the men they pass. To Farouk, "I'll tell the baby you said hi!"

Robin is nearly dragging the boy, looking all around for danger, they still have not seen John, perhaps they are wrong about John, Robin desperately wants to be wrong, David is a step behind the pair, his hand at what must be some kind of weapon attached to his belt- _gun_, the word comes to Robin, from the part of his brain that the curse tried to fill, the part of his brain that thought _electricity_ when Regina turned on a flashlight to read to Roland the night before.

They're in sight of the truck, momentum growing as they head down the hill, when David yells to get down, Robin looks up and promptly throws himself backwards, instinct more then reason making him drop.

An arrow zooms by right where his head had been.

Robin still holds Roland's hand, his fall drags Roland down to moist dirt too, father and son tumble head over heels down the hill, thankfully they had cleared most of the trees before tumbling, but they will both be sore as they strike hard rocks, they reach the bottom, Roland with a high pitched cry and Robin with a grunt. There are leaves in Roland's hair, and one small twig, his backpack had been ripped, he cries in shock more than hurt, Robin hopes at least, the boy lets loose a heartbroken sound as he looks at all his pictures for the baby strewn across the muddy hill.

"Where are you going, lover boy?"

Robin looks up, his hand at his dagger, unsheathing it as he scrambles to find his feet, John steps out from behind the truck. A crossbow, loaded and aimed for Robin, is held ready, a sick smile that looks wrong on John's face is stretched under that beard.

"John!" Robin calls desperately.

"Put it down!" David places himself between John and the still crying child, Roland who is looking with wide terrified eyes at one of his dearest Uncle's and clutching a drawing that had been close enough to grab. That strange weapon, gun- Robin's conditioning to this world supplies- held up, aim rock steady, nostrils flaring. "Put it down, now!"

Roland is screaming for Robin, David is screaming at John, but Robin can only look on, stung by betrayal he knows John had no choice in, "John, please," he begs, how unfair of him, to ask John the impossible, to beg him to stop.

John's aim squares, his finger tightening on the trigger-

A booming sound echoes across the forest, with a spray of blood against the hood of David's truck John is thrown violently back, thudding against the metal before sinking to the ground, gasping for breath as he drops the crossbow.

"NOOO!" Robin screams, running forward, David beats him there, kicking the crossbow away, weapon aimed at John's head

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: not mine yo**


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